I glance back at Natalia through the crack in my seat. She’s asleep. I fight the annoyance brimming underneath my skin, the urge to grit my teeth and crack my knuckles. I’m emotionally fried today.
As if she can sense me thinking about her, she opens her eyes briefly and catches me staring at her through the sliver between my seat and the next. I’m about to turn away when she lifts a hand and flips me off before turning away from me.
I clench my jaw and grip the paper of the magazine a little too hard. With my other hand, I swirl my ice water and throw the rest back in one gulp.
I’m not sure why she bothers me so much, or why I find her so irritating. I’ve only known her for an hour. That’s certainly not enough time to form a solid opinion.
I refocus my breathing and set the magazine back in the front seat pocket, opening my laptop and sifting through my emails.
This trip isn’t about her, despite how it started.
This is about Gather, and the future restaurant. Luca and I have lofty goals, and I need my mind in the right place.
Closing my eyes, I count to ten.
6
Natalia
The first thingthat signifies an even shittier travel day is when I get a nosebleed as we begin to descend. I’d wiped my face off with one of those hot washcloths they give you, andboom, blood everywhere. I fiddle around with the leftover napkins from my other two spills, but it’s futile. I am a mess, and I need to change and take a shower as soon as we get to the hotel.
I exit my row, doing my best to ignore the asshole right in front of me. Instead of making small talk with someone who I guess is technically my boss, I face the other direction and attempt to drag my carryon through the narrow aisle as Anderson chuckles behind me.
We both make our way to the exit of the airplane, separately and yet together. I assume we’re headed to the same destination, though we never confirmed it. He quickly walks off of the jetway, not bothering to wait for me.Fine.I follow him through the airport, toward the exit sign. As he pushes the door open, I am hit with warm, balmy air. He doesn’t hold the door open for me, so it slams in my face.
Grunting, I struggle to open the door one-handed, and when I spot him climbing into a black escalade, I jog over. I walk up to it as he gets in, and our eyes meet for a second before he pulls the door closed.
“Wait!” I yell, flagging down the driver.
My heart lurches as the car pulls out, and though the back windows are heavily tinted, I swear I can see Anderson scowling at me through the grey glass.
I grumble and pull out my phone, dialing Luca’s number.
“Are you here? We have lunch in an hour,” he grinds out, his voice stern.
“Well, your darling business partner ditched me, so I was wondering if you could send a car? Or I could Uber…”
“Just. Get. Here,” he snaps, and then the line goes dead. I hail a taxi, thinking it must be the quickest way to get from point A to point B. When I climb in, I leaf through the various texts and emails I received while in flight. I have a text from Kira—just a reminder to please pay the water bill. I quickly pay it online and confirm with her, also making sure to throw in an anecdote about how much of a shithead Anderson is. I don’t normally relay so much personal information, but I’m sure she’ll find the situation hilarious.
The next text is from Samantha, and she tells me the bully book is going to be the next big thing. She promises to send me a signed copy, and I ignore the heaviness in my chest. That was supposed to beourbook.
The third text is from Luca, and he must’ve sent it right before I boarded. It’s a contact—Anderson Møllen. What the hell kind of symbol is that? Is it Swedish? I am about to Google it when another text comes through. Harrison—my date from the other night. I hover over the notification, and when I click through, my stomach nearly bottoms out.
Hey Natalia. I wanted to update you on Shirley. Unfortunately, she passed away from complications of her surgery. It turns out the concussion caused her brain to swell, and she had a stroke last night. I am going to be sending you a final bill, so can you please send me your contact information at your earliest convenience?
I nearly chuck my phone out the window, suppressing the guilt of having killed a cat.What the actual fuck, Natalia?I take a few calming breaths and focus on the absolutely breathtaking views of Maui. I refuse to let Harrison—or Anderson—sour my mood. I’m in Hawaii! I roll the window down a bit as the warm, humid air hits my face. We take the highway a few miles, passing the pristine beach with dark blue water. Everything is so colorful here—the ocean is a deep, velvety blue, and the foliage is excessively green. Smiling, I remember Luca’s urgency, and quickly put my face back together. I apply some lotion, tinted cheek balm, and red lipstick. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but when I do, you can be damn sure it’s lipstick.
The driver pulls through a large resort gate, and I’m taken to the front of the most luxurious hotel I’ve ever seen. The building is white and pristine, and through the revolving wooden doors, banana leaf fans circulate the warm air and dark, matte wood lines the floors. As I get out of the taxi, I stretch, not caring about my stained sweatshirt or the fact that my black leggings still smell like tomato juice. I am in paradise. Nothing can get me down here.
“Miss, did you have a suitcase?” the taxi driver asks.
I turn around and stare at him. “Oh—yeah.” Walking to the trunk, a feeling of dread overcomes me, because I don’t remember opening the trunk at the airport. My heart races as I pop open the trunk and peer into emptiness. I slam it shut and jog over to the driver.
“Oh my god, I think I left it on the sidewalk at the airport.”
“I’d be happy to call the airport, and—”
“Oh no,” I mutter, looking around. I was so distracted with Anderson being a jackass, and then Luca’s urgency and all the notifications that popped up… “No, no, no.” I turn to the driver, a small man with white hair. “I will pay you two hundred dollars if you can go back to the airport, track down my suitcase and bring it back here before…” I look down at my phone. “Before one.”
