“Yeah, I know he loves me. He just doesn’t love me enough. Look, I’m at the airport. I’ll call you.”
The call drops. “Argh!” Charlie shouts. “I love her, but she can be such a coward!”
“She needs time to process. This has rocked her to the core, and she’s going to push everyone away until she can wrap her head around it. It’s how she works. You know that.” Standing, I grab my phone and keys from the side table.
“Where are you going?”
“Airport.” I shove my cell in my pocket. “I’ll give her time to process. I’ll just be there with her while she does it. She can push me away all she wants, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Charlie stands and kisses my cheek. “Go get her.”
I stop at the front door and face her. “Any idea where she’s going?”
She shrugs. “Not specifically, but it’ll be far. I’d grab your passport and pack for a wide range of climates.”
Passport. I hadn’t even thought about that. I drive like a bat out of hell to my house and grab my passport from the safe. Without wasting time to pack a bag, I lock up then haul ass to the airport. I have no idea what I’m doing. She has at least an hour’s head start. SFO is huge, and I don’t even know where to begin to look. But if I have to go gate to gate, I’ll find her.
After parking my truck in long-term parking, I head straight for the United counter. “I need a ticket to anywhere. It doesn’t matter where.”
“I need a destination, sir.”
I hand her my credit card. “Anywhere that will get me on the other side of security.”
“Sir?” She looks at me as though I’m a terrorist.
I hold up my hands. “That sounds bad. I need to track down my girlfriend and stop her from getting on a plane.”
“Sir?” Now she looks at me as though I’m a psycho stalker.
I’m not sure which is worse, but I’m willing to bet a million dollars if she issues this ticket, I’ll be “randomly selected” for a full-body frisk at security.
I drop my head in my hands. “This is coming out all wrong. My girlfriend has just gotten some devastating news, and I don’t want her to go through this alone. I want her to know I’m here for her.”
She smiles. She taps on her keyboard then a ticket prints. “My boyfriend wouldn’t get off the recliner, let alone buy a ticket to nowhere, just to tell me he’s there for me.” She hands me my ticket and my credit card. “Good luck.”
Taking the ticket, I thank her. “I’m going to need it.”
I sprint across the concourse to the arrivals and departures boards and scan the international departures. Amsterdam, Beijing, Dubai, Istanbul. Nothing looks right. Sure, they’re far, but I don’t see her going to any of those places. Oh, there it is. Munich. G-19. Of course she would run to Douchenozzle. The flight status reads “boarding.” I have ten minutes to get through security and get across the airport.
As predicted, I get stopped at security. I can’t really blame them. A guy buys an international one-way ticket without luggage—that’s like waving a red flag in front of Homeland Security. Top it off with the fact I’m sweaty and obviously anxious… I’d stop me too. Once they let me go, I sprint to the gate. Just in time to see the plane pull away. I walk through the rest of the terminal, looking for her at every gate, but somehow I know it’s a waste of time. She was on that flight.
“I missed her,” I tell Charlie when I get back to my truck. “I think she went to Germany.”
“I guess that makes sense. Henrik did just help her after the funeral. Maybe she thinks he can help her through this.”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved she has someone to run to or pissed off that she’d rather run to him than talk to me.
“What are you going to do?” Charlie asks.
“I couldn’t catch up with her right now if I wanted to.” I pound my fist on the steering wheel. “Gah, I swear that woman is always slipping through my fingertips!”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe there’s a reason you didn’t catch her. Maybe it’s fate’s way of saying you need to let her go. For now anyway. She just might need time.”
I don’t buy that for a second. Arianna needs me, but she’s too damn stubborn to see it. “If she doesn’t want to be with me right now, then the best thing I can do for her is to make this go away as quickly as possible. When she’s ready to talk, I’ll be here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Arianna
I’m at the airport before I have a chance to think about what I’m doing. I don’t want to think anymore. My brain is on overload. I just want to get on a plane and go. Maybe Charlie’s right. Maybe I am running. She can call it whatever she wants though. I’m getting the hell out of this town.
Not having the faintest idea where I should go, I look at the board and hope something jumps out at me. Maldives is very tempting. I could get one of those huts that juts out into the crystal clear ocean, pull the sheets over my head, and let the calming sound of the waves lull me to sleep for a month. But if I did that, I’d drive myself crazy thinking about everything. I wouldn’t sleep. I’d just lie there, replaying every moment with my father and trying to determine if any of it was real. Questioning why he would talk to Chase and not me. If I had known, would things have been different? No. I can’t go off on my own. I need someone to distract me from all of this. No one’s better at blocking reality than Henrik. Lucky for me, there’s a flight to Munich tonight.
The flight doesn’t board for thirty minutes, so I stop at the first-class lounge. If there was ever a time to drink, now’s that time. Staring at the bottles behind the bar, I try to decide what to have. Johnny’s out. Scotch reminds me of Daddy. I just want something that will make me numb.
The bartender places a cocktail napkin in front of me. “What’ll be?”
“Something strong that works quickly,” I reply.
He smiles. “I’ve got just the perfect thing.” He reaches for a bottle of 151. “Pre-flight jitters?”
“If only it were that simple,” I mutter.
He pours the rum and a few other shots from various bottles in a cocktail shaker then shakes. “This will do the trick.” He pours the mixture over ice and places the drink on my napkin. “Thirty minutes. You won’t feel a thing.”
I take a sip and cough as fire singes my throat. “Smooth,” I say, trying to clear my throat. “Real smooth.”
He smiles. “Do you want smooth, or do you want effective?”
I take another sip. “I’ll go with this, thanks.”
“Well, hello, beautiful. How about you and me go make some headlines?”
I don’t need to see his face to know who it is— Sven Lundberg.
Sven and I played the circuit together. Before his game dissolved into mediocrity, he was the bad boy of the tour. Throwing rackets, yelling at line judges, temper tantrums at press conferences. The whole act got him a lot of attention. Far more than he would have gotten from his game alone. He wasn’t a bad player, but his reputation let him hang around a lot longer than he would have with his ugly serve and weak net game.
Most people on the tour loved Sven. He was the life of the party and always kept things interesting. He’s been married and divorced countless times, each wedding and subsequent divorce more flashy and over the top than the one before. He was in the news so often he’d picked up the nickname Headlines. I think it was a self-imposed nickname, but regardless, it stuck. Eventually it was shortened to Lines—right about the time he went to rehab. He’d always tried to sucker me into going out with him and his crew, but I was too much of a good girl.
He’s the last person in the world I want to see right now. Not in the mood for his insinuations and propositions, I don’t bother to look at him. “Sven.”
He motions for the bartender. “Vodka rocks.” He leans on his elbow and smiles at me. “Here I was having a horrible day. I met with a bunch of venture capitalists. The tightwads weren’t interested in
investing in my new company. I thought I was flying off to holiday with my tail between my legs, then just like that, my day perks up. How long has it been?”
I shrug. “I can’t recall. But it’s been a while, I’d assume. I haven’t been to a tennis event since the US Open last year.”
He puts his hand on mine. “Oh, right. I’m sorry about your father.”
Daddy always hated Sven. When I was eighteen, Sven wanted to team up for mixed doubles. It was probably his best chance at winning a major. It would have been a smart career move on his part, but there was no upside for me. Daddy was against it, said Sven was nothing but trouble. “An immoral louse,” I believe his words were. Pot meet kettle. Not wanting to think about my father for another second, I tip back my drink and polish off the rest of it then push the glass toward the bartender.
“Thanks,” I say to Sven. I pull my hand back and tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.
The bartender places Sven’s drink in front of him. “Another for you, miss?”
“Of course she will,” Sven responds before I get the opportunity to answer.
“No, thank you. Really. My flight’s boarding soon.” Grabbing my purse, I stand.
He jumps up and blocks my exit. “Oh, come on. Never once in all the years we’ve known each other have you had a drink with me. Who knows when I’ll get another chance?” He gestures for the bartender to bring the drink.
Oh, what the hell. A little more rum will help me sleep on the flight. I put my purse back down and sit. I hold up a finger. “One more.”
Sven bows his head. “You’re so kind.” He sits back down. “So where are you off to? Business or pleasure?” Before I can answer, he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t answer, because I don’t care. I think it was fate we ran into each other like this. You should come with me.”
Oh, I’m sure it’s fate. Today has been destined to be the worst day of my life, and running into Sven must be the icing on this arsenic-laced cake.
I raise an eyebrow. “As tempting as that is, I’ll have to pass. But thank you though.”
He shoots back the rest of his vodka. “Don’t turn me down so quickly. Clearly Jensen isn’t doing his job of putting a smile on your face. Ditch him and come with me to Ibiza. A week of dancing, drinking, and debauchery. You look like you could use a little fun in the sun.” He runs his finger down my arm. “I’d give just about anything to see you in a bikini. It’s still a little chilly this time of year, but that just makes it all the more nippley.”
I pull my arm away. “Like I said, I think I have to pass. But thank you anyway. And Henrik and I aren’t together.”
He taps my plane ticket on the bar. “Oh really? You’re going to Munich for the weather? The cuisine? The exotic nightlife?”
I look at my watch. “Look at that. My flight’s boarding.” I open my purse, pull out a fifty, and toss it on the bar. “Sven, it’s been a pleasure.”
He grabs my elbow as I try to pass him. “I’ve known you a long time, Arianna. I’ve seen you high from victory and disappointed with loss and inflamed with passion and driven by competition. I know you well enough to know you are not well. Maybe it’s your father’s death; maybe it’s something else. I don’t know, and I really don’t care. The why is just tears. I’m all about the smiles. Get out of your head for a little while and come play with me. For once, I’m not just asking because I want in your pants. Which, don’t get me wrong, I do, but I think you need just once to stray from the path of the straight and narrow and dip your toes into the deep pool of desire. Abandon your ridiculous concepts of right and wrong and allow yourself to have a little fun. Like I said, it must be fate that crossed our paths today.”
“That was a great speech. Have a safe flight. I’m sure I’ll see you at Roland Garros in May.”
Smiling, he pulls his hand away and shakes his head. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. My number hasn’t changed.”
Yeah, maybe when hell freezes over.
I’m the last one to board the plane. Slipping into my seat just as the flight crew closes the door, I take the eye mask out of the complimentary gift bag. Warmth creeps through my body as the drinks start to work their magic. All of my screaming thoughts of Daddy and Chase and my potential sibling get absorbed by the blissful Bacardi-induced quiet. It’s as though someone set my brain on mute. I slide on the eye mask and drift to sleep.
I don’t stir until the flight attendant taps my shoulder. “Ms. Aldrich? We’ve landed.”
I look around and see everyone gathering their belongings. Damn, I wish I had paid closer attention when he was making that drink. It worked wonders.
Since I didn’t even pack a carry-on, I go straight from the jetway to the cab stand. Thirty minutes later, I’m banging on Henrik’s door.
It takes a few minutes before he answers. Leaning against the door, he wipes the sleep from his eye. “Lamm?”
“Surprise!”
Closing his eyes, he leans against the door as though he’s about to fall back asleep while standing.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, it occurs to me he might have someone here with him. Dammit, I should have called first.
Opening the door farther, he shuffles down the hall toward the bedroom. “Gehen wir zurück ins Bett.” He only speaks to me in German when he’s drunk or half awake. The slightly sour smell lingering in the air tells me it’s probably both.
I hear his shins hit the mattress before he topples forward onto the bed. Within seconds, I hear snoring. I peek into the room and find it thankfully free of female guests.
Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I take a look around. This place is a mess. Laundry and empty takeaway containers everywhere. I’m scared to think what the bathroom looks like. If I had to guess, Henrik forgot to pay the cleaning lady I hired and she quit. Wouldn’t be the first time.
When Henrik and I started spending time together, this amazing apartment had no furniture except a mattress on the floor. He didn’t even have a television. “I don’t need it,” he’d said. “I can have bigger parties without all the furniture in the way.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t have the money, because he did. Furniture shopping was just too boring for him. But in a short time, we got this place together. Or I should say I got this place together. Looking around, I spot stains on the furniture and carpets. It’s my fault. I never should have put so many light colors in here knowing there wouldn’t always be a grown-up around to supervise.
He could be asleep for another twelve hours, so I go to the bookshelf and find a book I bought while I was here last but never got the chance to read, and I curl up on the sofa. I crack the book open, but the words don’t sink in. I read the same paragraph over and over, but all I can think about is the mess I left at home. It’s too damn quiet here. Desperate to take my frustration out on something, I grab the cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and attack the apartment. I wash the walls. I scrub the grout. I clean the cabinets inside and out. Anything to keep my mind distracted.
A few hours later, he stumbles out of his room, his eyes barely open. Yawning as he stretches, he walks to the kitchen then grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. He picks his phone up off the counter and scrolls as he strolls to the living room. He walks right by me dusting the shelves in the living room but doesn’t even notice me.
“Nice to see you’re finally up,” I say.
Screaming like a little girl, he jumps in the air, throwing his phone. “Jesus Christ, Lamm, you scared me half to death! When did you get here?”
“Six hours ago.” I point at the door. “You let me in.”
“I did?” He scrunches his face. I can almost see the wheels turning as he tries to remember.
Now that the shelves are clean, I put a stack of books back on one. “You were asleep.”
His face softens as he plops onto the sofa. He pats the space next to him, encouraging me to sit. “You know my brain doe
sn’t really turn on until I’ve been awake for at least twenty minutes. I probably won’t remember this conversation. Did I know you were coming?”
Putting down the dust cloth, I cross the room and sit across from him. “Nope. This was an impulse trip.”
He scratches the scruff on his chin. “Impulse?”
“Yeah, I just drove to the airport and hopped on a plane. I missed you.”
Cocking his head, he looks at me. “What are you doing here, Lamm?”
Avoiding his gaze, I inspect my chipped manicure. “Like I said, it was an impulse. I came to see you. You guys have that big game against 05 in a few days. I thought I’d cheer you and Ariko on. In Ariko’s last email he said he was going back to Africa in a few weeks, I thought maybe we could join him. There is still so much work to do to get the village back up and running. Until then, I thought maybe I’d hang out here for a bit, see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
He raises his eyebrows. “And Chase?”
I pull at a loose thread on the sofa. “What about him?”
He tilts his head, trying to make eye contact, but I look everywhere else. “What does he think of your European vacation?”
I shake my head. “I need a break from all things American for a while. Like forever.”
He runs his hands through his mussed hair. “I see. So you two fall out of sorts, and you hop on a plane and knock on my door.”
I sigh. “Henrik, it’s not like that. My life exploded yesterday, and I need a break until I can figure out which way is up. You’re one of my best friends, so of course I came to you.”
He puts a hand on each of his knees then clucks his tongue. “I’m happy to get you tickets to the match, but that’s all I can do for you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t keep doing this. I can’t fix you only to fall further in love with you then send you back to him. You’re killing me, Lamm. Being around you when I can’t have you slaughters me. Maybe one day it’ll be different, but I don’t see a version of myself that doesn’t love you, and you’ll always love him. I can’t do it anymore. If you want to run away from your problems, by all means, you know I support you. But I can’t go with you this time. It hurts too much.”
Love To Hate You Page 21
