by Hudson Lin
Vivian stepped out of Marco’s arms, pain and gratitude and fear mixing in a twisted cocktail of emotions. A part of her wanted to shake him, to show him how much his rejection had hurt her. Another part wanted to press against him and let his comforting scent ease the wound-up tension inside her. She wanted him to tell her that it would be okay, and she wanted to be able to believe him. But none of that was going to happen.
Vivian dropped her chin to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Tell Uncle Tom that I hope he gets well soon.” Marco stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Vivian nodded. “I will.”
Chapter Eight
Vivian brushed her thumb back and forth across her dad’s hand. He was asleep, still recovering from the surgery. The doctor said it had gone well, and, barring any unforeseen complications, they expected a full recovery. He was supposed to start physical therapy the next day. Relief wasn’t strong enough to describe the feeling of showing up at the hospital and finding out that her dad was going to be okay. It was like she could finally breathe again after holding her breath for twelve hours.
It’d only been two days since his fall, but he already looked thinner than normal. His skin was pale, his veins showing through like blue vines winding up his arm. His hair was matted, but Vivian didn’t want to brush it for fear of waking him.
“Viv?” Tom’s voice was weak and hoarse.
She shot from her chair and leaned over him. “Dad, hey.”
“You’re home.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, Dad. I should have been here before you went to surgery. But there was this drone, and we got grounded for hours.” Tears prickled her already puffy eyes.
Tom made a tsk sound and grimaced his disagreement. “Ah, that’s your job. You were living your life. You don’t need to take care of me all the time.”
“Don’t say that. You’re my dad. Of course I should be taking care of you.” She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it out.
“Oh, Viv. You were always too much of a caretaker to your mom and me.” Tom stopped to cough, and Vivian grabbed the Styrofoam cup and straw that the nurse had left earlier.
“Here, drink some water.” Vivian held it up for her dad.
“Mm, thank you.” He pushed it away after a sip. “You need to start taking care of yourself.”
“I take care of myself just fine.” Vivian set the cup aside as she rearranged and tucked in his blanket. “I’m not the one in the hospital.”
Tom grunted.
“The doctor said you’re going to be okay.” Vivian went on. “You’ll start physical therapy tomorrow. The therapist came by earlier, but you were asleep. He was nice. I think you’ll like him.”
“Doesn’t matter if I like him. Do you like him?” Tom gave her a weak grin, but there was no doubt about what he meant.
“Dad!”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re with Marco now. How is Marco?”
“I am not with Marco!” Vivian crossed her arms. “I was never with Marco.”
He raised one eyebrow, and that was all it took to get Vivian sputtering. “I’m not! We’re colleagues, that’s it.”
“Ah, I saw that picture of you two in Paris. You are not just colleagues.”
She knew which picture he meant. The one with the two of them in front of the Louvre. The one where she’d wanted to tackle Marco to the ground and lick him from head to toe. Okay, maybe they were more than colleagues in that picture. But they were definitely just colleagues now.
“No, Dad. There’s nothing going on between me and Marco.” Yet her heart clenched at the words. The image of him standing in the terminal as she ran onto the jet bridge of the earlier flight flashed through her mind.
She forced a smile for her dad.
“Well, there’s always the physical therapist, right?”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Dad!” Looked like he didn’t hit his head when he fell.
~~~~~
The door to the hospital room was standing open, so Marco peeked inside. The bed by the door was empty, but an older Asian man was lying in the other bed. All around him were brightly colored flowers, cards lined up against the window, and balloons scrawled with Get Well Soon. This man had no shortage of friends.
He hesitated. Coming to the hospital had been his first priority since getting back from London, but now that he was here, uncertainty kept him from taking the next step. Seeing Vivian so distraught in Heathrow had been like taking a punch in the gut. Every instinct he’d had told him to do something, fix the problem, but if he’d learned one thing from Vivian, it was to know his place. Vivian hadn’t asked him for help, and after putting a halt to their relationship, what right did he have to force it on her?
In the end, it’d been Claire who’d given him permission to reach out to that other crew. An exception that proves the rule, she’d called it. Once he’d found out that the first officer was someone Marco had had a dalliance with years ago, it hadn’t been too difficult to convince him to ask one of the newer flight attendants to switch with Vivian.
Marco hadn’t been able to stop worrying the entire flight back to Toronto. Sure, he’d never met Vivian’s dad, but all those videos made it feel like he knew him already. He’d dropped a pot of coffee on his own foot; gave away vegetarian meals to the wrong passengers; and nearly bowled Claire over with a cart because he was so distracted. By the time she’d sent him on his break with a glare, he was a wreck. All he could think about was how Vivian was doing, miles and hours ahead of him.
This was the life they’d signed up for as flight attendants. Traveling the world meant being away from people they cared about at home. It had never been a difficult trade-off in the past, but then Marco had never cared about someone the way he cared about Vivian. He liked caring about Vivian, damn it. Why did he have to choose?
He didn’t, he realized as he lay in the bunk on the plane, the noisy whir of the jet engines surrounding him. His parents had left him behind so they could be together. It didn’t excuse their lack of parenting, but maybe they’d found themselves in the same position Marco was in, and they’d chosen each other.
If he and Vivian could find a way to fly together, maybe they could choose each other too. He wouldn’t know until he tried.
Marco stepped into the room. “Uncle Tom?”
The older man turned, and recognition dawned in an instant. “Marco!”
“Hi, that’s me. Oh, no, don’t get up.” Marco rushed forward and set his flowers and a tray of drinks on the table before helping Tom ease back on the bed, rearranging his pillows so he was propped up higher.
“You came to see Viv, yes? She’s in the washroom.” Tom gestured to the closed wide door with light spilling from underneath.
“I came to see you, too. I wanted to know how you were doing.” Marco held up the flowers in a vase. “I got these for you.”
Tom laughed, a booming sound that was at odds with a man lying in a hospital bed. “Thank you. I’m sure you can find someplace to put those.”
Marco squeezed them in on a side table, moving other flowers around to make space.
“Marco?”
He turned, and his heart stopped. Vivian stood in the middle of the room, confusion marring her brow. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, there were bags under her eyes, and her shoulders sagged with fatigue. He was pretty sure those were clothes she’d worn in London. She looked beautiful.
“Hey.” He caught himself before he walked over and pulled her into an embrace.
“What are you doing here?” Vivian asked, folding her arms across her chest, accusation in her voice.
“Viv!”
“No, it’s okay.” Marco took a step forward. “I brought you coffee.” He held up a coffee cup as a peace offering.
She hesitated a beat before the tension melted from her posture and she took the proffered cup. “Thank you. I didn’t mean . . .” She shook her head.
“I know.
” She was still pissed at him. That was why he was here. Marco turned to Tom. “Sorry, I didn’t get one for you. I wasn’t sure whether you were allowed caffeine. And well, I didn’t want to get into trouble.” He shared an amused grin with Tom before sneaking a glance at Vivian.
“Ah, that’s okay, Marco. I prefer green tea.” Tom winked at him.
“How did you know where to find us?” Vivian asked, lowering herself gently into the chair next to the bed, sinking into the sagging cushions.
“You told me he was at St. Mike’s. That’s all I needed.”
Vivian nodded and curled her legs under her. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. Marco’s heart broke. He wanted to take her home, run a bath, feed her. She was always taking care of her parent, but who took care of her?
“Have you been home yet, Vivian?” Marco already knew the answer from her carry-on stashed in the corner.
Vivian jerked her head up like she’d almost dozed off. “Huh?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Tom answered for her. “You should take her home.”
“Dad!”
“Ah, you need a shower and to change your clothes. You look terrible.” Tom apparently didn’t pull punches. Now Marco knew where Vivian had inherited the trait.
“Dad.” She was anything but pleased.
Marco jumped in. “You don’t look terrible at all. But you do need to take care of yourself.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “I should have known you two would get along.”
“Go home, Viv.” Tom paused to yawn before continuing. “On your way back, pick up some rice, okay? They don’t have rice here. What is a meal with no rice?” Tom’s eyes drifted shut.
Vivian opened and closed her mouth, but the conversation was over.
Marco ventured an offer. “I’ve got my car. I can drive you. It’ll be fast.”
She huffed and stared at her now sleeping dad. “Fine.” Vivian pushed to her feet with more effort that it should have taken and gathered her carry-on from the corner. They slipped out of the hospital room, closing the door behind them. Marco moved to take her suitcase for her with a questioning look, bracing himself for a retort about how she could carry her own stuff, but to his amazement, Vivian handed it over without a word. She wrapped her arms around herself, head bowed, and trudged next to him in silence.
He’d wait until he got her home and she’d gotten a shower and some food before trying to have the conversation weighing on him. The elevator dinged and spit them out in the underground parking garage. Halfway to his car, Vivian stopped suddenly.
“Why are you doing this?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“What do you mean?” He could have slapped himself on the forehead. Of course, he knew what she meant.
“Why are you here? Visiting my dad? Driving me home?”
He knew her fatigue was fueling her accusatory tone, but it made it difficult for him to confess his mistake. “I’m trying to be nice.”
“Yes, but why?”
This was it. Marco’s heart thudded, his throat closed. He wished they were someplace else, somewhere they could sit and be comfortable. But there wasn’t any time for that. He set her carry-on to the side and stepped closer. “Because I love you.”
Vivian’s brows drew together, and she took a step back. “What?”
“I love you, Vivian. I know it sounds crazy, but I do. That’s why I acted like a dick in Paris that morning. I got scared.” He took a shaky breath. “We keep crazy schedules as flight attendants, and I was afraid that I’d end up in a relationship with someone I never saw. I . . . didn’t want to repeat my experience with my parents. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Vivian’s fingers had turned white where they were wrapped around her arm. “So what changed?”
“I never saw my parents because they were always going off somewhere—together. I mean, they were still kind of terrible parents, but they wanted to be with each other. I want to be with you. You make my life brighter, Vivian. Rome and Paris? I’d been to those places a dozen times, and they were never very special until I saw them with you. Your excitement for being in a new place. Your willingness to go on an adventure. The videos you take for your dad because you don’t want him to miss out. You make life more vivid. You make it full. And I love you for it.” His voice cracked around the last words, and his stomach roiled with fear and uncertainty. He’d laid it all out there; now it was her turn.
She stared at him with big eyes, a slight crease between her brows. In the distance, the screech of tires echoed, reminding him of where they were.
“Vivian, say something, please.”
She was trembling, and Marco almost turned away. He’d been too late.
“You couldn’t say that shit in Rome or Paris, or even London? You saved it for some dank underground parking garage?” Vivian’s shoulders sagged, her eyes slipped shut, and she wavered on her feet.
Marco stepped in, holding his breath against all hope that she loved him back. He took her into his arms slowly, readying himself for her rejection. But she slumped against him, her hands sliding around his waist, head heavy on his shoulder. She whispered, “I love you, too, you idiot.”
Joy and a hint of disbelief flowed through him. Did he hear what he thought he heard? He squeezed her, unwilling to ever let her go, and she snuggled in closer. They stood in the underground parking garage, soaking in each other’s presence until the twin beams of headlights swung in their direction. They shuffled out of the way of an oncoming car.
Vivian took a deep breath, standing up straighter than she had all evening. “Come on. You owe my dad some rice, and I know a takeout place on the way home. Time to show off my language skills.”
Laughter bubbled up from inside Marco as she stepped around him, a new spring in her step. He followed after her, happy to go wherever she led.
Epilogue
Vivian sighed, scanning the wide airport hallway for a familiar well-fitted dark-blue jacket. She could almost feel her watch vibrate with the movement of the second hand as it ticked away. She checked it for the fifth time in two minutes. “He’s late. We should be boarding already.”
“Relax, Viv. They won’t take off without him,” Tom chided her from his wheelchair. His eyes were wide as he observed people passing them in the terminal.
“Actually, Dad, they will take off without him. We don’t wait for passengers.” Vivian folded her arms across her chest. “I mean, unless they’re in first class, but we’re definitely not in first class,” she muttered under her breath.
“There he is!” Tom waved his hand to catch Marco’s attention.
A smile lit up Marco’s face as he made his way toward them, and Vivian’s heart skipped a beat. How the hell she could still react that way after dating for almost a year, she didn’t really understand. But it was true. Every time Marco entered the room, Vivian would get a little short of breath, her stomach got a little fluttery, and her cheeks got a little flushed. It didn’t help that Marco always paused for a moment with his gaze on her, as if he was taking her in after being away too long.
He strode up to them in his long confident steps. “Sorry I’m late, Viv.” He leaned in and planted a quick peck on Vivian’s lips. “I ran into Clare in the employee lounge. She says hi and hopes that we have a good time.”
A smidgen of her annoyance faded; she couldn’t be upset with him over Clare. “That’s nice of her.” Vivian took up position behind her dad’s wheelchair and started maneuvering him as she spoke. “Can you grab our bags?”
“Hello, Marco!” Tom greeted, his head craned backward toward Marco even as Vivian pushed him toward the gate.
“Hi, Uncle Tom.”
She didn’t turn around to look at him, but she could hear the amused resignation in Marco’s tone. It usually meant he thought she needed to take things down a couple of notches. Well, she’d take things down when they were on the plane and in their seats. Marco, of all people, should understand the importance of completing
the boarding process on time.
“Hi,” Vivian said as she approached one of the gate staff. “Dad, give them our passports and boarding passes.”
“Ah, I know how this works, Viv.” Tom handed over the documents dutifully and leaned forward to whisper to the woman working the computer. “My daughter’s taking me to Peru. She’s a flight attendant, so she’s been to many places. But she thinks I don’t know how to fly.” He gave her an exaggerated wink and infused each word with innuendo. “Oh, I know how to fly.”
“Oh my God, Dad.” Vivian covered her face with a hand. “I’m so sorry. He’s really inappropriate sometimes.”
The woman’s smile didn’t crack, but Vivian could tell she was filing away the story about a creepy old man to share with her co-workers later on. “Have a great flight.”
She handed back their documents, and Vivian pushed Tom past the gate desk and onto the jet bridge. “Dad, you can’t say stuff like that to people. Especially not people I could be working with tomorrow.”
“Not tomorrow,” Tom shot back. “We’ll be on vacation in Lima tomorrow.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Ah, Viv. Relax! Marco, tell her to relax.” Tom tried to turn in his chair, looking for Marco behind them.
“Sorry, Uncle Tom. I know better than to do that now.”
What was that supposed to mean? Vivian tossed a quick glare over her shoulder at Marco, but he deflected it with a warm smile. It defused a bit of the stress she’d been carrying since that morning. They’d put a lot of planning into the trip. Both Vivian and Marco had taken time off. They’d rented a wheelchair in Lima and hired special cars to make sure Tom could move around the city and see all the things he wanted to see. Everything had been scheduled down to a minute in Vivian’s spreadsheet, and relaxing wasn’t going to keep them on time.
“Hello. Bonjour. Do you need any assistance?” the flight attendant on board asked as soon as she saw Tom in a wheelchair.
