He moves away from her, disentangling her from his arms. Is that it? she wonders. Is that the end for them? It was what she wanted, what she planned, and yet, now that she’s standing away from him — away from him and his smell and his eyes and the heartbeat that sounded so steadily against her — she feels bereft. She feels lost. Her heart is broken, she realises. He’s broken the heart she hadn’t even realised she’d given him.
“Tom,” she says, and when he looks at her, the ocean breeze rippling through his hair, she feels a knot of want in her stomach. “Take the wrong roads with me,” she pleads. “Stay with me.”
She’s in his arms again in a moment, and his lips are hard against her own. He kisses her lips, her cheeks, her neck... every scrap of flesh that is available to him, he puts his mouth to passionately.
“Yes,” he agrees. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Ari. Anywhere you want to go.”
“The end of the earth sounds good,” she smiles into his kisses. “And it isn’t far from here.” She cups his face in her hands.
“So, let’s go,” he says. “As soon as your painting is dry, let’s get out of here. To the end of the earth and then back again.”
Ari looks at her painting. It’s a mess of colour, with jagged yellows and pinks cutting into the grey of the town and blue ofthe ocean. It’s nothing like how she intended it to be, nothing like how she saw it in her mind. Just like Tom, she realises.
He’s just as unexpected. Just as unplanned.
“Don’t worry about the painting,” she shrugs. “It’s no good. Let’s just get out of here.”
But Tom shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “The painting is wonderful. Let’s wait for it to dry.”
“No, it’s really not worth it, it’s really—”
“Ari,” he says again, patience in his voice. “The painting is good.”
Her body sings at his praise, and she smiles up into his eyes. “Then it’s yours. You can have it.”
He seems momentarily taken aback, and there is a hint of wonder to his face. How long has it been since someone gifted him something? she wonders. But by the expression on his face, she suspects she knows the answer. A long time.
“Are you sure?” he asks tremulously. “I don’t want to presume—”
“Tom,” she interrupts him gently. “It’s yours.”
He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets and swallowing heavily. “Does it have a name? It’ll be hanging in a gallery one day, you know. Right next to all the other great artists.”
She gives a small laugh at that. The idea that one of her works, small and inconsequential, would ever hang in a gallery, next to one of the greats, is ludicrous.
“No name,” she says. “It doesn’t need one.”
“It does.” Tom frowns. “I’ll think of one.”
Two days later, they travel to a small, local airport, where he ushers her into a small plane he’s hired.
“You can fly?” she asks dubiously, watching him settle comfortably into the pilot’s seat.
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It’s the family talent.”
“What do you mean?” she asks. “Are your family pilots or—”
“Let me check your restraints,” he interrupts, reaching over to pull the straps across her chest. “There are heavy clouds today... It could get bumpy during take-off.”
She nods, and when Tom is satisfied that she’s safely buckled into her seat, he manoeuvres the small plane along the runway and then into the sky. Without meaning to, Ari holds her breath as they rise, and it’s only when they break through the low-hanging clouds and begin to soar through the blue skies above that she allows herself to relax. Behind the controls, Tom is confident and relaxed, keen to share something he clearly loves with her, a wide grin on his face, and she stares at him in amazement. He’s beautiful, she realises. He’s wonderful and beautiful and everything she has ever wanted in life.
When they begin their descent into Tromsø, she continues to stare, and Tom grins at her.
“What are you looking at? What can you see?” he teases.
“Roads,” she answers truthfully. “So many roads.”
“And do any of them look good to you?” he asks with a smile. Something about him in that moment makes her catch her breath. He’s a puzzle, she realises. But he’s a puzzle she wants to work out.
