“Something I know a little about.”
The taxi turned off the highway and onto the road that led to the airport. Marigold thought about what Natalie always did before getting out of a cab: confirm that her phone was in her pocket, slip her purse over her shoulder, and then look around to make sure nothing had fallen onto the seat. Her constant vigilance had always struck Marigold as amusing or exhausting, depending on her mood, but that’s why Natalie had never misplaced her phone, let alone fled to a foreign country to finalize her secret divorce the day before her wedding.
The taxi pulled up in front of the terminal, where dozens of people were taking suitcases out of bags, fetching trolleys, and hugging their loved ones goodbye. A veritable mob scene compared to the private airfield they’d flown into. “Thanks again for taking me all this way,” Marigold said. “It’s a lot more than I deserved.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m not leaving until your plane takes off.”
“You know you can’t wait with me at the gate, right? Even Canada isn’tthatlaid-back.”
“I’ll wait in baggage claim. Your flight doesn’t leave for forty-five minutes. That’s a long time in Marigold world. Anything could happen. Weather delays, random drug search, a sale at Gucci.”
“There’s definitely no Gucci in this airport. And what do I look like? A suburban mom desperate for tacky status sunglasses?”
“Gucci’s tacky?”
“Never change, Hugo.” Marigold paid the fare and then she and Hugo headed into the terminal and made their way toward the security checkpoint.
She couldn’t believe they’d pulled this off; she was actually going to make her flight to Portland! She still had a long way to go, but by the end of the day, she was going to be married. Yet despite her eagerness to get on the plane, she found herself wishing the security line weren’t quite so short so she could have a few more minutes with Hugo. It felt unlikely that they’d ever see each other again.
“I hope you work things out with James,” she said. “I think you two would be good together.”
“You do? She’s training to be a moose oncologist, you know.”
“The noblest Canadian profession.”
“Text me when you get home, okay? I want to know that everything… worked out.”
Marigold nodded, worried that her voice might crack if she spoke. She reached up to give Hugo a tight hug. “Bye,” she whispered.
“Bye.”
Marigold stepped toward the end of the security line as Hugo turned away. She forced herself to wait a few moments, then glanced over her shoulder. Hugo had taken a seat in the cluster of gray pleather chairs under the departures board, apparently making good on his promise to wait until her plane took off. He sat with his elbows on his knees, head resting in one hand. His hair had come loose from its bun, making him look so much like a forlorn folk singer on an album cover that Marigold would’ve smiled had the slump of his shoulders not made something in her chest ache.
“Passport and boarding pass, please.” Marigold spun around to see a security officer frowning at her.
“Oh, sorry, here.” Marigold extended her documents, then pulled her arm back. “Hold on, I just need to—”
“Mare!” Hugo had risen from his seat and was jogging toward her.
“Sorry,” Marigold said to the security officer. “I’ll be right back.” She scooted past the five people in line behind her and waited for Hugo. “Everything okay?” she asked.
He paused to catch his breath, although it seemed strange that a ten-meter jog would’ve left him winded. “I don’t really know how to say this… I know Ishouldn’tsay this. But I need to tell you what really happened with me and James.” He inhaled like a nervous kid preparing to give a speech in front of his whole class.
“I never should’ve dated her to begin with. I wasn’t over you. A few weeks after we got together, I went to New York to look for you. I lied to her and told her it was a work trip. But I was really trying to track you down. James found out and realized I was still in love with you.” He paused and met Marigold’s eye. “That Iamstill in love with you.”
Marigold stared at him, wishing she could press “rewind” and listen again. She needed to confirm that she’d understood him correctly, that her brain wasn’t playing a trick on her. She wasn’t sure if these were the words she’d been waiting for or the ones she’d most feared. It was unclear what was making her heart race—was it dopamine or adrenaline? Joy or terror? “You… you really came to New York to look for me?”
“Yeah, I did. I obviously tried calling first, but you never picked up or called me back.”
“I…” Marigold winced, remembering the missed calls. How she’d panicked and just erased her call log. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say without making things worse.”
“Well, I didn’t have your address, either, but I went to all the restaurants you’d mentioned, all the places you posted on Instagram. I spent three days combing the city before I ran out of money and had to fly home.”
Marigold pictured Hugo wandering the streets of a city he’d never visited before, navigating crowds and buildings as foreign as anything he’d ever seen. His hopeful expression each time he saw a landmark he remembered from Marigold’s stories. His face falling every time he walked out, no closer to finding her. “I wish…” She trailed off.
“What do you wish?” he asked quietly.
“I… I’m not sure.”
