“Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He stood behind me for a moment, his hand lazily stroking my hair, his other arm still around me.
“How was everything last night after I dropped you back here?”
“It was fine.”
“And now?”
I didn’t know how to explain how I felt. Not upset, just...lost maybe. I didn’t know where I fit anymore. My grandparents were getting older, and I wasn’t a kid any longer. Now that I was out of the house, their responsibility to me was over—or changing at least. My father and Sara would be starting a new life, with a new baby now. I felt like everyone was moving on, and while part of me knew I had to change and move forward, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being left behind.
“I feel like everything is changing and everyone’s lives are moving in directions that don’t include me. It’s stupid, right? I mean, I moved to London, I should have expected at some point this wouldn’t be my home anymore—that things would change. It just feels weird.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s normal to be scared sometimes.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to be alone.” I didn’t know where I got the strength to share this part of myself, only that I trusted him to understand.
“I promise you, you’re never going to be alone. You have people in your life who love and care about you. They’ll always be there.”
The conviction in his words shook me. Hell, the word “love” surprised me. This wasn’t a conversation I ever would have imagined a year ago. But we were changing too, becoming something new.
“You should talk to your father.”
I looked up at Samir in surprise. “Why?”
“Because you’re not over everything. He hurt you. He still hurts you. And you’re stuck. You need to be able to find a way to put all of this behind you.”
“Since when did you become so wise?” I teased, ignoring the pull on the thread holding my heart in place, threatening to unravel it.
A year ago, I would have done anything to avoid such a conversation and the inevitable pain it might stir up. But I was tired of clinging to the past, tired of it holding me back from my future.
“Maybe you make me wise.”
I laughed. “Then you’re really in trouble.”
He kissed me. “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I know you. You’ll figure it out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Maggie
WE SAT NEXT to each other on the back porch, tension filling the space around us.
I couldn’t remember the last time we’d actually been alone together. Not since I was little, maybe? Even then, I remembered my mother more than him. He’d been gone a lot then, too. I remembered drawing pictures for him on deployments, hearing his voice on the other end of a static-filled line. That was about it.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring out at the woods behind my grandparents’ house. I would sit here when I was younger, wondering at the world beyond those woods, thinking of my parents somewhere out there without me.
“Pretty view,” he commented.
“Yeah. It’s a little weird being back here.”
“Tell me about it.”
It was the first time I’d ever felt like we had anything in common. Samir’s advice pushed me on.
“Is that why you joined the Air Force? Because you wanted to leave?”
Surprise flickered across his face. “Maybe.”
“Did you always want to fly?”
“When I was a kid, your grandfather had a buddy who flew crop dusters. He took me up in a plane once when I was eight. It was my first plane ride, and it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. We took off and I felt this rush, and then we were in the air, looking down below, and everything beneath us seemed so small. I felt like I was on top of the world. And yeah, after that, there was nothing else I wanted to do.”
“You love it.”
“I do. It gets old sometimes—the moving, the deployments, the life. But when I’m in the cockpit, everything makes sense. There’s a part of me that still feels on top of the world.”
It was so strange to hear him talk like this, strange to see this side of him, strange to see myself in him.
“It’s the only dream I ever had. And it came at a high price.” He stared down at his hands. “Other guys manage families and flying. It’s tough, but they do it.” He sighed. “I was young when I met your mother.” I froze, shock filling me. He never spoke of her. “I was cocky and thought being a fighter pilot was the most important thing in my life.” His voice cracked. “I made some mistakes. Lots of mistakes.”
The words hung between us, overwhelming me. I wasn’t sure how to respond or if I was even supposed to. But there were questions I wanted answered and he was the only one who could answer them.
“How did you meet?”
“I was in Vegas for an assignment and your mom was there for a bachelorette party. I saw her sitting in the audience at a show and that was it. I told my buddies I was going to marry her. I went up to her afterward and we hung out the rest of the night. The next night we eloped.”
I gaped at him.
He shook his head ruefully. “It was impulsive. And a little crazy.”
“What was she like?”
He stared off into the yard and for a moment he seemed to be somewhere else entirely.
“She was dazzling. She was the kind of girl you couldn’t look away from, no matter how hard you tried. You look a lot like her.”
My heart caught in my throat. “Really?”
He nodded.
“I don’t remember what she was like. It’s been a long time.”
“She was beautiful. Funny. Smart. The day she left was the worst day of my life. Your grandmother called and told me you were by yourself waiting outside ballet practice. I was in Alaska. It took me a few days to get home, but when I finally did, you just stared at me with these big brown eyes. You would follow me around the house, like you were afraid I was going to go, too.” His voice cracked. “Every time I looked at you, I felt guilty. It became easier to not look at you. Easier just to leave.”
There was a tightness in my chest, an aching, twisting pain.
“You deserved better than what we gave you, and I’m sorry for that. But I was young then and so was she. Even though we did the best we could, neither one of us knew what it was to be a spouse, much less a parent. We fucked up.”
“Yeah, you did.”
He was giving me an apology—fifteen years too late. The damage had already been done. The cracks were there, and no amount of glue was going to fix them.
“I’m sorry. I was a mess after she left. For a long time. I honestly thought you’d be better here with my parents. I couldn’t give you stability, couldn’t give you the kind of life you needed. I knew they would take care of you.”
They had. My grandparents were wonderful. They had taken me to soccer practice and gone to parent-teacher conferences. They’d stepped into the role my parents had abandoned. But I wondered if he’d ever thought about the burden he’d placed on them—they’d already raised one child, then they had to take care of me. Were there things they’d wanted to do with their lives? Trips they’d wanted to take? Dreams they hadn’t gotten to fulfill?
It felt like we were all sacrificing for my father’s dream—none of us by choice.
I understood wanting to escape; I could even understand his love of flying. But I couldn’t understand the way he lived his life at the expense of everyone else around him. I was like him, and yet on some fundamental level, I wasn’t.
I saw my parents differently now. I’d been angry for so long—angry with my mother, with my father. But it didn’t matter anymore. I got it now. It wasn’t me. Whatever had happened between us, whatever happened to my family was on them. It was their choices and mistakes that fucked everything up. There was nothing that could
be done to fix the past, no words that would make it better. An apology did more for him than it did for me. The second I’d heard it, I’d realized how little it really meant. I’d never really needed it at all.
It was time to let go.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe you can come visit us in Oklahoma.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to have him in my life, wasn’t sure where this relationship would lead. It was difficult to sweep over so many years of pain between us. But letting go made me feel better, lighter. I didn’t want to spend my future living in the past.
“That boy...”
“Samir?”
He nodded. “Is it serious?”
It was strange to hear him asking me fatherly questions. Strange to think he cared.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“It seems like he’s serious about you.”
Surprise filled me. I didn’t want to discuss Samir with my dad. Somewhere along the way I’d stopped caring what my dad thought of my decisions. If he was proud of me—great. But I wasn’t going to live my life to impress anyone but myself. Not anymore.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Maggie
JANUARY CAME QUICKLY, and soon I was walking up the steps to the International School, excitement and relief filling me. It was good to be home.
I opened the door to our room, greeting Fleur and Mya with hugs. I set my suitcase on the floor of our dorm room, shutting the door behind me.
Fleur grinned. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“You’re just as bad as Samir,” she complained. “I was expecting stories when he came back to Paris. I got nothing.”
I laughed. “Why are you so fascinated with my sex life? Still nothing going on for you in that department?”
“Drier than the Sahara.”
“Sorry, man.”
“Why are you still with him?” Mya asked, stretching out on her bed.
“Because he’s sweet. Normal. He’s good to me.”
“You don’t seem happy, though.”
Mya was right—she didn’t seem happy. It was like she was stuck in between the old Fleur and the new Fleur and neither one fit her very well.
“She has a point.”
Fleur pulled a face. “Not you, too. You’re the one who encouraged me to go out with him in the first place.”
“I thought he’d be good for you.”
“Maybe you should just take some time and be single,” Mya suggested. “More than the few months you did over the summer. Maybe you need a break from guys.”
“Maybe.” Fleur sighed. “I guess I just want what you have.”
It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Samir. It’s cute—and a little annoying. You guys seem really happy together—like you get each other. I want that. And even though you won’t dish, I’m guessing the sex is pretty hot.”
I flushed.
“See? I want that. I want a guy who is my friend and is amazing in bed. I want the blushing and the butterflies and a little bit of the crazy.”
I understood what she meant, but she didn’t really get it. She saw one side of me and Samir, but she didn’t see the rest. She didn’t understand the clock running down on our relationship. Each month that passed meant we were one month closer to graduation, one month closer to him leaving. We weren’t a relationship, we were a ticking time bomb.
“Don’t we all want that? But don’t you get that it’s just temporary? I don’t know where I stand with him. It’s easy to be in the perfect relationship for six months.” Not that I was even sure we were the perfect relationship. I was happy with him, but I was also confused. How were we supposed to turn our emotions off just because he graduated? How was I supposed to kill the feelings inside of me when he left?
“You’re going to be a mess when this ends,” Fleur commented, worry filling her eyes as understanding dawned. “I see the way you look at him. This isn’t casual for you, is it? Isn’t just sex.”
“No, it isn’t. It never was.”
“Does he know that?”
“No, he doesn’t. You can’t tell him either.”
“Don’t you think he might feel the same way?”
Sometimes. Sometimes when he looked at me, I could swear I saw the same worry and fear mirrored in his eyes. But other times I was convinced I just imagined it.
“Okay, enough,” Mya interrupted. “I can’t take any more of the drama. You’re both driving me nuts. There’s more to life than guys. We live in London. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Most glamorous city in the world. And here the two of you are, sitting in your room, moping over boys.”
“I’m not really moping,” I interjected.
“You are. You’re all lovesick and mopey. Both of you. Well, Fleur minus the lovesick part.”
Fleur chucked a pillow at her.
“Can we do something tonight? Something fun that doesn’t involve talking about the opposite sex.”
She was right. So much of last semester had been spent with Samir that I’d totally neglected my friends.
“Sounds good to me.”
Mya grinned. “Excellent. Cafeteria, then maybe a movie?”
“Done.”
* * *
WE WALKED DOWN to the cafeteria, laughing and joking. I’d missed this these past few months. Sure, I loved spending time with Samir, but it was nice just to hang out with the girls.
The building was still pretty empty. The spring semester started tomorrow and as usual, it seemed like the vast majority of the student body was milking their winter break for everything it was worth. Samir wouldn’t get back until tomorrow morning.
The first thing that hit me as we walked toward the cafeteria was that it was loud. Really, really loud. The sounds of people talking and yelling spilled all the way out to the stairwell.
Mya frowned. “That’s weird. It sounds like a party in there.”
“Maybe more people are back.”
A crowd of people formed in front of the cafeteria, staring at something on the wall.
“Maggie!” Our old roommate, Noora, stood in front of me, a worried expression on her face.
“Hey.” I nodded toward the crowd. “What’s going on? I didn’t think it would be this busy.”
“You need to get Fleur out of here.”
“Why?”
Noora opened her mouth to answer at the same time Fleur moved ahead of us, pushing through. In her wake, the crowd quieted, silence filling the hallway.
“What the hell is going on?”
Noora pointed, a flush staining her cheeks, and I suddenly saw what everyone was staring at—
Just as Fleur’s perfectly timed “Motherfucker!” filled the air.
I blinked. Something was crudely taped to the cafeteria wall. A photo of Fleur. Naked.
* * *
“IT COULD BE WORSE.”
Fleur glared at Mya. “How?”
“You could look bad.”
“She’s right, you know,” I interjected, staring down at the photo we’d ripped off the wall. “I would kill to have a body like yours. Anyone would kill to have a body like yours.”
“I’m naked,” Fleur hissed through clenched teeth, taking a sip of her scotch.
We were holed up at a little bar off of Grosvenor Square. Fleur was on her second scotch. Mya and I just stared at her, helpless.
“Where’s the picture from?”
“Where do you think? Take a page from my book. Never let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend take naked pictures of you.”
“Do you really think Costa would do this? Release them? Isn’t he in the U.S.?” Mya asked. “Why is he still screwing with you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he released them, maybe he didn’t, but either way he shared private pictures between us with someone else.”
“Were there more?”
&
nbsp; She stared down at her glass, swirling the amber liquid around. “Yeah. He took a few.”
I knew it wasn’t the time to make her feel even worse, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she’d been thinking. Nothing about naked pictures sounded like a good idea to me.
“I know I’m an idiot.”
I sighed. “You aren’t an idiot. You just trusted the wrong guy.”
Tears filled Fleur’s eyes.
“It’s going to be okay.”
She shook her head. “That’s just it—it isn’t going to be okay.” Our gazes met and I knew we were both thinking about everything else.
“You should tell her.” I nodded toward Mya.
Mya frowned. “Tell me what?”
Fleur drained her glass, setting it down on the wood table with a loud clunk. “Fuck. I got an email a few months ago. It was from some dodgy anonymous email address. Anyway, whoever sent it said they knew all of my secrets and if I didn’t pay them fifteen thousand pounds, they would tell everyone at the International School.”
Mya gaped at her. “What did you do?”
“I ignored it. I figured it was someone being stupid or trying to get money out of me. I wasn’t actually going to pay it.”
“But you think the picture might be linked to that?”
Fleur nodded.
“Shit.”
“I don’t know what to do. I mean, the whole thing’s crazy. I can’t believe someone actually has the balls to try to blackmail me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand what they actually have on you. It doesn’t make sense. What kind of secret would be worth fifteen thousand pounds?” Mya sputtered. “That’s insane.”
Fleur flushed, her gaze darting toward me.
“You should tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
I reached out and squeezed Fleur’s hand. “She’s a friend and she’ll understand. You need to talk about it.”
“Talk about what? You guys are talking in riddles and I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“I was pregnant,” Fleur began, and I watched as Mya’s entire expression changed. “It was Costa’s. I had a miscarriage. That’s why I missed part of freshman year.”
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