Kaori
Um . . .
Alice
Fortunately, my neighbor is a brilliant fashion designer. I know your taste, and she has the perfect piece in her new collection. I’ll send it over with Angela.
All I can do is stare at my phone before sending a thumbs-up emoji.
Theo, I’m on my way.Even if he isn’t ready to see me, it’s worth the risk. I’d rather face an empty farmhouse than live with the questions of what might have been.
Twenty-Three
Wind whips across the rooftop helipad, tugging at my hair as Angela completes her preflight checks. She’s traded her usual charcoal suit for an olive-green flight suit from her RAF days, her hair pulled into a severe bun beneath mirrored aviators. Sato-san is already buckled into the copilot’s seat, looking remarkably unfazed.
Leon slides in beside me, adjusting his seat belt. “Well,” he murmurs, “this beats the Tube.”
I manage a small, tight smile.
Angela snaps her checklist shut. “All right, Your Highness,” she says, her voice crisp through the comms. “We’re clear for takeoff. Headsets on, please. It’s about to get loud.”
The rotors begin their rhythmic thump, vibrating through the floor and into my bones. “Is the landing sorted?” I ask, raising my voice over the increasing whine of the engine.
“Arranged and confirmed.” Angela nods. “We have permission to land on the village cricket green borderingthe property. It’s flat, open, and most importantly, discreet. We’ll be wheels down in about forty-five minutes, assuming the wind behaves.”
Forty-five minutes. My pulse flutters. Forty-five minutes until Devon. Until Theo. Until I find out if showing up is an act of bravery or a catastrophic mistake.
Leon taps my shoulder, grounding me. “You’ve faced worse. You stood your ground against Theo on your first day. You looked Cuthbert Harris in the eye and told himno. Your spine is made of titanium, kiddo. You’ve got this.”
“Maybe,” I breathe, tightening my harness until it bites into my shoulders, “but this feels scarier.”
“Cleared for departure,” Angela announces.
The helicopter rises, tilting forward as London begins to shrink. We soar above the skyline, leaving behind the snarled traffic and the press vans still circling Excelsior HQ.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” Leon says, staring out the window.
“That’s what flying does,” Angela tells him. “It gives you perspective.”
From this height, the distance between London and Devon doesn’t seem far at all. Just a quilt of green fields stitched together with hedgerows. Tiny villages tucked into folds of the landscape. Rivers flashing silver in the sun.
I rest my forehead against the cool glass. Somewhere down there, on those winding coastal roads, Theo is driving. Is he angry? Is he relieved to be away? What am I going to say when I see him?
I’m sorryfeels too small.I love youfeels too big.I’m herefeels too much like a promise he might not be ready for. Maybe showing up is the only sentence that matters.
“Five minutes out,” Angela’s voice crackles out, herfingers dancing across the instrument panel. “Hold tight. We’re heading for the lower field.”
This is it. Go time.
“The farmhouse is just across the lane,” Leon says, pointing toward a cluster of stone buildings nestled near a copse of oaks.
I blink at him. “How do you know that?”
He shrugs, a nostalgic look crossing his face. “I’ve been here before. Long story involving Theo, a broken-down car, and a very long walk. I’ll tell you later.”
The ground rushes up to meet us. “Bracing for landing,” Angela calls out.
The helicopter hovers for a heartbeat before touching down in a sloping field, the skids settling into wildflowers and tall grass.
