The entire way, Aubrey didn't say a word. Just stared over the side and into the water lapping against the side of the boat.
By the time they glided under the Adams Street Bridge and approached their mooring, he figured she wasn't ready to fill in said missing bits. Was he disappointed? A little. Was he surprised? No. As she was so fond of reminding him, this was not a date, and she did not want a relationship.
Not with me.
When he felt her give his hand a hard squeeze, however, he brightened.
"Sears Tower?" she asked, her eyes distant, her voice full of steely resolve. "That's where you're taking me?"
John started. "Uh, yes? But you know, technically, it's the Willis Tower."
With a roll of her eyes, Aubrey mumbled, "Whatever. Let's do this." She stood up, stepped over him, headed for the stairs down to the lower level before the boat even docked, and didn't look back.
* * *
After spending several agonizing minutes twisting her pearls, eyes closed, while Madame Marie studied the tea leaves in her cup, Allison nearly fell over in her chair when the old woman finally let out her customary heavy sigh, signaling she had finished her interpretation.
Her eyes popped open in time to see the gypsy slowly shake her head and then break into a kind smile as she delivered the news.
"You have nutting to vorry about."
Allison gasped. "Marie, what did you see?"
Tilting the cup that had been drained of fluid towards her, the old woman pointed to the bottom. "See dat? An angel. Alvays means good news, but can also mean protection, huh?" Turning the cup a bit, she pointed again, carefully, so as not to dislodge any of her evidence. "And here, dat's a cross, a T cross. Dat means happiness and success, but da kind of success dat only comes after many trials and tribulations."
Allison's relief knew no bounds as she leaned back in her chair. "Oh, Marie. I cannot tell you how very glad I am to hear that. My trials and tribulations have indeed been many."
"But," Madame Marie interjected as she raised her knobby index finger.
With a jolt, Allison scooted to the edge of her chair and waited, overcome with dread. "Tell me," she pleaded.
"I see some ting else."
"What? What is it?"
"A vahz." The old woman announced dramatically before tilting the cup towards the quivering acting CEO of Griffin Media.
"Meaning?"
Narrowing her eyes, Madame Marie waited.
When she didn't respond, Allison, hand back on her pearls, began combing through her memory bank. She knew her confidante had seen that ominous symbol before but couldn't for the life of her remember at what juncture in their long relationship.
She started mumbling to herself, "A vase. Let's see. Prosperity? No, that's not it. A gift?" Lifting her eyes to Marie's, hopeful for affirmation, she was disappointed to see her close her eyes and shake her head.
"Oh, all right then. I don't re—" Sucking in a breath, she looked up and said, "Wait."
Madame Marie nodded at her encouragingly.
"That's the shape you saw when I thought my husband was having an affair."
The gypsy's large hoop earrings danced against her gray curls as she nodded again.
"Which means," Allison continued, "that someone is keeping a secret from me."
"Yes," Marie hissed. "Go on."
Allison faltered, "Well, given the happy, positive news of the other two symbols, that could only mean that it's…a good secret?"
"Veddy good. All vight den."
Releasing her pearls from her craggy fingers, Allison lunged forward and grasped the gypsy's hand. "Thank you ever so much, Marie. Words cannot express how grateful I am that I came today."
She fumbled in her purse and laid fifty dollars on the table.
With a warm smile, the medium pushed the cash away. "No. Dis one's on da house."
"Nonsense." With a glance around the room, the high-powered executive, more relaxed than she had been in months, added, "You have a future to think about as well." She leaned down to give her a quick hug good-bye.
Before leaving, Allison paused and looked into her confidante's face. "Marie. If you don't mind my asking, what are your plans for the future?"
After a moment, the gypsy pursed her lips and shrugged. "Maybe a leeetle sunshine. Some palm trees. A beach."
Allison sat back down in her chair with a sigh. "Same here. Once I get my grandson settled, I'm retiring to my estate in Montecito."
Marie nodded.
"It's in California. Have you ever been?"
"No."
Leaning against the back of her chair, oblivious to the fact that Cameron was waiting outside, idling at the curb in her Mercedes, she gave a glowing account of the area before exclaiming, "You simply must come for a visit." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a business card, scrawled the address on the back of it, and handed it to Marie. "Just because I'm retiring doesn't mean I won't still need your advice, dear friend."
With that, she gave her hand a squeeze and walked towards the door. Before going through it, she turned and said, "Maybe bring your granddaughter along."
With that, she was gone.
Had she popped back in, she would've caught Madame Marie taking Allison's real cup from a little shelf under the table to her right and placing it on top of the table next to the one Aubrey had drunk from the morning before.
* * *
Bounding up the front entrance stairs with the determination of a mountain climber headed for the summit of Mount Everest, Aubrey burst into the lobby of the Sears Tower with John at her heels.
After passing unscathed through the security scanners, she grabbed his hand and made a beeline for the ticket booth.
"Two express tickets, please."
She then let out a cough before handing her credit card to the ticket agent. "Do you mean to tell me that if we want to skip the presentation and exhibit, we have to pay almost double? How does that work?"
John gave her a look that she couldn't quite identify, but she so didn't care. She was on a mission to eradicate her past.
If John had a problem with that, he only had himself to blame.
"I can pay my share," he offered.
Aubrey handed him a ticket and shook her head. "Nope. I've got this."
"Yeah, but who's got you?" she heard him mutter as he followed her to the elevator that would take them to the 103rd floor.
Squeezing into a car with the rest of the tourists put Aubrey's bravado to the test. With her ears popping and people pressing into her from all sides, she folded her arms around herself, closed her eyes, and took deep calming breaths until the elevator reached the observation deck.
It seemed to take forever.
When they finally reached their destination, a ding signaled that the doors were about to open. As soon as they did, she filed out with the others and turned on John as soon as he joined her. "All right, where is it?"
He looked confused. "What? We're here."
"That thing you can walk out on? You can see through the floor?"
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. It's right over there."
Aubrey turned and led them in the direction he had pointed where they stood waiting until it was their turn to replace the carpeted floor under the feet with nothing but a clear view of Wacker Drive way, way below.
With just a few more people to go until she had her chance to defy gravity, she focused on little more than how ready she was to bury Max's ghost for good.
Finally, it was time. She took a step forward.
Looking straight out at the southern horizon, Aubrey walked out, all the way out, and pressed her hands against the clear glass in front of her.
Not focusing on anything in particular, she replayed the high and low points of Max's and her incredibly brief but impactful time together and then did her best to let it all go—the regret, the bitterness, and the long-simmering anger. Like the puffy white stems of a dandelion, she visualized blowing
them into the wind.
After a few minutes, she closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the glass. The peace was surreal; the relief enormous.
Goodbye, Max. Rest in peace.
Barely aware of a young boy who had bound into the space with her and was jumping up and down as hard as he could, Aubrey looked over at him and smiled. Then she glanced back at John who was waiting for her back on the carpeted floor, leaning against the railing with his arms folded.
Pointing to the Chicago River way, way below, she laughed, "You should see how tiny the water taxis are from up here."
But she knew his eyes were on her. Which was OK. It was more than OK, really.
After watching the pedestrians mill around on the sidewalk 103 stories below her like so many ants at a summer picnic, she turned to face John who was still standing there watching her, patient and expectant, like a guardian angel.
She leaned her back up against visually nothing and said matter-of-factly, "I'm twenty-seven."
John stepped onto the glass.
"My dad died in the Gulf War right after I was born, so my mom and I moved in with my nana. Then, while I was away at college, my mom was killed by a drunk driver."
Taking another step, he grasped her hand and nodded for her to continue.
Aubrey lowered her voice. "About a year ago, I married a guy I had only known for…days. Max. Most impulsive thing I've ever done. But, I figure, when you know, you know, right?" She let out a short laugh. "Well, turns out I didn't know. Not enough anyway. I pressured him into marrying me because I wanted to have something"—she paused, struggling to find the right word—"normal in my life. You know?"
Looking up through the clear glass ceiling, she took a deep breath. "Well, it didn't work out that way. It was pretty awful as a matter of fact."
Aubrey stopped and waited patiently for a young couple to enjoy the view next to them and then leave.
Returning her gaze to John's, she explained, "You know, start to finish, we were only together for a couple of weeks, and even during that really short time, he couldn't manage to stay faithful."
She looked at him as if to say, "Can you fricking believe it?"
"Yeah, some guys can be real jerks."
"Ya got that right."
He lifted her chin. "Just some guys."
Aubrey gave him a half smile. "I know."
Taking a fortifying breath, she kept going. "We had planned to go bungee jumping on our honeymoon. And then he, uh, insisted that he go first." Ignoring the tear she felt escape down her cheek, John wiped it away with his thumb. "When he dove, headfirst, the, um, cable broke. The coroner assured me he died on impact."
When John tightened his grip on her hands, she smacked on a smile and gave him a quick nod. "I'm OK."
Through a kind smile, he whispered, "Come on," and walked her to a less crowded area of the floor. But she still had so much to say, like how tired she was of being afraid of every little thing that unnerved her—bumps in the night, her insurmountable credit card debt, the thought of losing her job, TSA screenings at airports, the shrinking size of Girl Scout cookie boxes.
Only she couldn't.
Once they had reached a quiet corner, the emotion of what she had just accomplished hit her like a landslide. Motioning back towards where they had just come from, she whispered, "I did it," through a tear-filled smile. Then she buried her face against him and rid herself of all of the pent-up tears she was never able to cry when her cheating husband died.
It took a minute, tops.
"I'm sorry," Aubrey said before clearing her throat. "You didn't sign up for all this drama."
With a deep chuckle, he replied, "No worries. This is good." Then, more brightly, he added, "This is progress."
At that, she laughed. "Right. At this rate, you'll have me jumping out of airplanes in no time."
"That's the plan."
He let her go but took her shoulders in hand. "You're tougher than you think, Aubrey." A shadow crossed his face as a frown burrowed between his eyebrows. "And beautiful and funny…"
"Don't…" she whispered.
He stopped and let go of her.
"…forget brave," she grinned.
His expression softened into a half smile as he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Very brave."
She couldn't pull her eyes from his gaze.
With her heart thudding in her chest, she raised her lips to his and indulged in a kiss—the kind you don't give when you're not interested in a relationship.
As her eyes rolled back in her head, she pictured herself falling, slowly, gracefully like a leaf from a branch, in no hurry to hit the ground.
But when it did, it landed like a two-ton truck.
Her eyes flew open.
What are you doing? He is not what you want.
Backing away from John, she gave him a sideways glance and breathed, "Sorry."
An awkward few seconds passed before he proposed, "We should probably get going."
Aubrey was never more thankful. "Yes. Let's."
Back down with the rest of the ants on the corner of Wacker and Adams, John said, "Well, listen. I have to go run a few errands before that thing I have to go to tonight."
"Oh, hey. If that falls through, you're, ya know, welcome to come with me to my thing."
"Oh, thanks. Yeah, totally. Mine too. Just let me know."
She watched as John ran a hand through his hair. "Otherwise, meet back at my place at, say, ten?"
Channeling the most cheerful flight attendant ever, she replied, "Sounds like a plan. See you then."
"See you then." He then reached down to give her a kiss.
"Oh. Yes." After a quick peck, the kind you'd give a friend or relative, Aubrey watched him walk away. Going where, she had no idea. She didn't even think to ask. Nor had he inquired about her plans.
As people bustled all around her, going this way and that, purposeful and directed, she couldn't seem to get her bearings and was more reluctant to see him go than she cared to admit.
Checking the time on her phone, she wasn't sure how to fill the next few hours before she had to be at Claire's place for dinner. After the day she'd had, it was the last place she wanted to be—a gathering of happy couples.
After walking two blocks north to Madison Street, she contemplated giving Teddy a call. Having already informed her best friend that she had heeded her sage advice, Aubrey wasn't sure she was in the mood to disclose that she was in grave danger of falling for the hot stranger and, worse, was this close to telling him as much.
There was only one thing to do.
Google him.
* * *
Strolling through Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood on his way to the dinner party Nick had invited him to, John felt lighter than air. The day, so far, had exceeded his expectations in every conceivable way.
Waking up with his arms full of Aubrey.
The beautiful weather.
Navy Pier.
Sears Tower.
That kiss.
She initiated it, which meant she was having some feelings. For him.
Everything was falling into place.
Now, he just had to get through the next few hours, and he'd be with her again.
Cannot. Wait.
As he walked along, he passed one house after another, the driveways and front yards of which were littered with little kids playing while parents visited on porches or worked in the garden. The smell of a different home-cooked meal seemed to waft out of each residence—pot roast, grilled barbecue chicken, pan-fried lake perch.
By the time he reached his destination, John's heart was bursting with visions of the future he craved.
Checking the address on his phone against the decorative-tiled numbers he saw affixed to the wall just to the right of the mission-style bungalow's front door, he hopped up the porch steps and was about to ring the doorbell when it swung open.
"Hey Nick."
"Hey," the groom-to-be s
miled. "You're right on time, man. Where's your date?"
With a pang of regret, John replied, "She had something going on tonight too."
"Aw, that's too bad. Come on in. I can't wait for you to meet everybody."
* * *
Aubrey leaned against a counter in Claire's kitchen, watching the host serve up burgers, chips, and fruit salad to her four young sons, like a short order cook at a diner, before the rest of the guests arrived.
"You sure I can't help with anything? I feel like I'm in the way."
Flashing a grin, Claire replied, "No. You're fine. This is how we roll." To her sons she said, "Go ahead and eat outside or downstairs, just not in the family room or upstairs."
As they started to scramble, she added, "And put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when you're done."
When they were finally alone, Claire motioned for Aubrey to join her at the table. Breaking into a broad grin, she asked, "So, you invited the guy from the coffee shop tonight? Is he coming? When did you call him? And what happened with Malcolm?"
Aubrey didn't know where to start. So much had happened in the day and a half since she had last seen her friend. "Oh, yeah. Lunch with Malcolm went…all right."
"Did you ask him to the wedding?"
"I did."
"And what did he say?" Claire asked as she yanked an errant bra strap higher on her shoulder.
With a little shrug, Aubrey gave her unaffected reply. "He said he'd let me know."
"And he knows it's next weekend?" she replied with a boatload of tact. "That sounds like a 'thanks, but no thanks' to me. Doesn't it, hon?"
Aubrey just squirmed out a combo shrug and head shake. "Whatever."
"So, what about the guy from the coffee shop? When did you call him?"
"He was absolutely adorbs," Sara announced as she waltzed in from the backyard via the mudroom.
Placing both palms on the table, Aubrey felt a warm glow cover her face as she leaned forward and said, "Last night."
Claire's eyes popped open. "And…?"
Hearing the front screen door squeak open in the other room, Aubrey rushed her reply through an exuberant smile. "I met him at a bar and have had the most amazing time since."
Flight Risk Page 12
