“What? No. Why would I apologise?”
“You just seem like you’re trying to tell me something.”
“I am. You said I have issues. I don’t. My family means the world to me.”
“I was just trying to understand your need to put yourself in direct danger constantly.”
I look at the buildings around me rather than answer that, continuing to head in the direction of my hotel. I don’t know why I do. It’s just a part of me, and I suppose when you’re a woman doing this job, constantly surrounded by men who think you’re not capable, or who are laughing at the pretty girl on war-torn streets trying to compete with the big boys, getting into danger is the way to win the story.
We arrive at my hotel at the same time as I compile an answer in my thoughts, but by the time I get around to delivering it, I’ve changed my mind. What does it matter? We’ve had fun. That’s all. He isn’t a special person in my life, nor does he have any right to expect an answer.
“Thanks for letting me tag along,” I say instead, ducking into the shade of the awning. “What will you do with the shots?”
“Sell them. National Geographic and a few others are constantly looking for these kinds of images. It usually works out well enough.”
I nod and look at my watch. “And what’s next for Blake Rhodes then?”
“Don’t know. I’m here for a while more, then maybe Columbia. When’s your flight?”
“I need to leave for the airport in twenty minutes.”
“You need a lift?”
I smile at the thought. “Still trying to keep me safe?”
“Someone’s got to.”
I chuckle and walk up into the foyer. “Okay. That would be great then. Although, as I’m sure you’re aware, I am perfectly capable of—”
“Shut up, Ivy. Just let me get you there, and then I’ll feel better.”
I smirk. “Fine.”
“I’ll go get the car and meet you back here in ten minutes.”
He’s gone into the mill of people almost instantly, and I’m left looking out into the main square wondering why he has to be so abrupt sometimes. Maybe it’s the military thing again like he’s suddenly on manoeuvres somewhere with a job to do.
Chuckling at the thought, I turn into the foyer and walk inside to check out. It doesn’t take long, and I grab a bottle of juice and walk back into the shade outside to take in the last of the atmosphere here while I wait. Ten minutes later and I see him pull up across the road, so I drag my case over the pavement to get to him. He takes it off me and chucks it in the boot before getting us on the road.
We’re sporadic in conversation as we make the short journey. A little about his time here, some more about mine, but fundamentally I’m too busy wondering why he doesn’t live in London. Might be nice to see him again one day. And that’s unlikely to happen if he’s out here doing his thing. Although, I’ll come back soon. I always do. More pieces to write. And those women have given me ideas. Perhaps once this kafuffle at home is done, I can come back for that.
Somewhat chivalrously, he refuses to let me pull my own bag into the terminal. For a chap who has simply had a good night in the sack, I find the sentiment amusing, but pleasing nonetheless, and I wander happily for a few minutes. It isn’t until I’ve checked in and am ready to leave for the gates that I realise I’ve got to say goodbye.
The thought doesn’t fill me with as much glee as I’d assumed it would, and I turn to look at him as he stares out the windows at incoming planes. He seems lost in them like I am in my head sometimes. Handsome, though, especially with those arms out on full display. Several other women in the space seem to think so, too, as they walk by.
I walk back to him from the desk and pick up my suitcase, swinging the wheels around until it’s at my side rather than his. “So, this is goodbye then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks back at me. “Thanks for the ride here.”
“You’re all set?”
“Yes. I’ve got a change in Istanbul, but I’ll be at Heathrow soon enough.”
He nods and hovers, looking at me. “I had a nice time, Ivy.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m a good lay?”
“No. It’s my way of saying I wish you weren’t leaving.” I smile and look at my suitcase for a moment. Sweet. “Would have been nice to have some more time.”
My gaze comes back up. “Maybe, but we don’t have it. Not much point dwelling on things we don’t have.”
