“Yeah? What plans?”
“I’ve booked a cabin in Hobart for the weekend.”
“Tasmania? You want to go to Tasmania for the weekend?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s a short flight. I’ve already got the jet ready. If you want to. You can say no. It’s your birthday.”
“You really want to spend the entire weekend with me?” She looks surprised.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I’m a lot to handle,” she says.
“No, you’re not. I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend the weekend with. So, is that a yes? You want to come away with me?”
“Yes.”
I’m more excited for the weekend to come now.
When I get to Zara’s house, I drive through the gates, another new development on her part. “Thanks for dropping me home,” she says.
“I’d much rather take you homewith me.”
“Your parents will get tired of me being there.”
“Never.”
“Mhmm, I need to go over some last-minute party things with my mum. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll pick you up,” I tell her before she has to ask.
“Thank you.”
I watch her go inside and then I drive out. It’s not until I get home that I find her journal on the floor of the car. I send her a text.
Me:
I’ve got your journal. You left it in my car.
Zara:
It’s okay. I’ll get it off you tomorrow.
Is she not worried that I’ll read it? There are no boundaries I won’t cross when it comes to knowing everything I can about her. I want to read what she’s been writing in here. I need to know. I need to see where her mind is at.
I don’t. Instead, I open the glove compartment, throw the journal in there, and close the door.
I’ve read her messages on her phone and tracked her GPS location. But something is telling me reading that journal might be taking things too far. I haven’t been watching her phone activity as much lately, not now that she calls and texts me. She tells me when she’s not feeling great. At least a lot more than she used to. There could be other thoughts she’s not telling me, though.
The moment I walk into the house, my father calls out to me. “Ares, get in here.”
I step into his office and find my Uncle Gio sitting on the sofa, my dad sitting opposite him. “Did you book the jet for this weekend?”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck are you going to Hobart for?” Uncle G asks.
“It’s Zara’s birthday. I want to take her away for the weekend.” I sit down on the empty single-seater. “Is it a problem?”
