Marnie shrugged. “Fine. So, you played some magic tricks on this poor girl and caught her attention. What happened next?”
Tom sighed. “We spent the night in the terminal, just talking. At around five, maybe six in the morning, I bought her breakfast. Croissants and coffee,” he reminisced with a smile. “Jam on the pastry and sugar in the drink... Ari liked everything to be as sweet as she was.”
The knitting needles paused once more, and Tom looked up, catching his mother’s eyes.
“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Marnie asked, and Tom nodded, a catch in his throat.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I really did.”
“Do you still love her?”
Momentarily, Tom’s mind went blank as he blocked a painful memory from rising. He gripped the bedsheets, the bones of his fingers showing white under his skin as his hands clenched into fists.
“I’m marrying Sasha,” he said simply.
“That wasn’t an answer to my question, Tom.”
“It’s the only answer I’m prepared to give right now,” Tom retorted. “Look, I don’t even see what business this is of yours. Why are you even asking me about Ari? Why now? What’s going on?”
Marnie eyed him sharply. “There’s nothing going on. There are just massive gaps in your life story that I’m trying to fill. I told you, I’m tired of lies and unanswered questions.”
“Mom—”
“You had breakfast,” Marnie interjected, dismissing Tom’s attempt to lead the conversation. “Then what?”
Tom swallowed hard, a flush of red rising to his cheeks.
Marnie paused, appraising him sharply. “Then what?” she asked again. “What happened next?”
* * *
By three in the afternoon, they’re both exhausted. They’ve been together all night and day, laughing and chatting, but caffeine and adrenaline can only do so much, and now they’re both tired. Tom feels dirty, sweat pooling under his shirt, while his feet ache within his shoes. Ari looks tired, dark circles developing under her eyes, and Tom can sense she’s close to tears when the airport announces that all flights are suspended for at least another twenty-four hours, and that baggage claim is likewise closed.
“I’m just so tired,” she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder, making his body warm with content happiness. “I just want to sleep. Clean clothes, and a sleep.”
They queue for two hours to speak with a harassed airport official, who sighs when he opens a laptop and begins to type frantically.
“I’m sorry, we have very few hotel rooms left,” he apologises. “I can get you a room, but it’s basic, and you’ll have to share.”
Ari shakes her head instantly. “We literally just met,” she protests. “We can’t share a room, we can’t—”
“She can have the room,” Tom announces. “I can sleep on the airport floor. It’s not a problem.”
The man nods, and Ari turns, looking up at Tom keenly. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Yes, you can,” Tom replies, before he turns back to the official. “Book her the room.”
He escorts Ari to her hotel room, pausing awkwardly once she’s turned the key in the lock. “Well, Ari, it was nice to have met you.”
She nods back, chewing on her lip. “You too, Tom.”
It was better this way, he tells himself. He’s not meant to be falling in love. It’s best not to get close to anyone. Best not to reveal too much. Best to keep evidence of his existence so small it was almost like he didn’t exist at all.
Tom Miller is a fallacy. Tom Miller isn’t real. But this moment with Ari is, and Tom wants to make it count.
Before he can think twice, he leans down, pressing his lips to Ari’s and marvelling at their softness.
“Goodbye,” he whispers against her skin, and he feels a soft sigh issue from her mouth.
