“What time’s the plane?”
“Eleven.”
“Then we’ve missed it, haven’t we?” I slump back in my seat and fold my arms. “We can talk now.”
“I chartered a private flight, so we haven’t missed it. But they’ll get antsy, and we could miss our slot. Besides, I want us onboard. Out of New York. Out of…”
America.
He doesn’t say it, but it hangs in the air.
“Are we staying with your family?” His parents are out there somewhere.
“Nowhere near,” he replies. I hear the subtext: it’sthe first place they’ll look.
“I don’t speak Spanish,” I say sullenly.
I’m fully aware it’s implied consent. But I can’t say no to him. Even when I do, he ignores me. There’s probably a vial of chloroform in the dash and a forged power of attorney in his pocket.
“I speak enough for both of us.”
Yeah. So I’ll be dependent on him. At least for a while.
“Did you pack underwear this time?”
The shadows on his face don’t quite disguise the twitch of his lips. “You’ve got the ones you’re wearing.”
He knows damn well I’m not wearing any.
“Then we’re going shopping when we arrive.”
He nods, like that’s a done deal. “Can you walk? I can get you a chair.”
“I’ll walk.” I’m not leaving the damn country in awheelchair.
But my body has hardly recovered, and it still takes me too long to get my door open, pull myself out, and stand. By then, Alex has a luggage cart and has loaded four suitcases. None of them are mine; those are still in Carol’s apartment.
Which hits like a gut punch.
“Are you all right?” he asks, stepping forward, bracing me with a hand on my arm even though I didn’t need it.
Or perhaps I did.
“Fine.” Sonotfine.
But now that I’m resigned to going, I just want toget on the plane.
“Trust me,” he said. “A lot’s happened that we haven’t caught up on yet.”
I know he means Van Wyk, but I wonder what else.
What would it take for Alexander Reyes to leave his job, his work, hiscity, and move to Spain?
With me.
My breath catches, my chest tightening.
The only thing he’s taking… isme.
