by Rachel Lacey
I had an early flight, and I hate goodbyes. ~ Fi
And all the tears Nicole had been holding back flooded forth, streaming down her cheeks in a mixture of hurt and relief and too many other emotions to sort out. She pressed her face against the pillow until she’d gotten herself under control, and then she picked up her phone and started typing.
I hate you for this.
Also, how did you get my number?
Almost immediately, the little dots began to bounce at the bottom of her screen, letting her know that Fiona was typing back.
Please don’t. Your mother gave me your number yesterday when I was programming my new phone.
Nicole was so ridiculously happy to be talking to her that she was grinning like an idiot through her tears. Also, she really owed her mom one.
I don’t hate you. I should, but I don’t.
And I love the drawing so, so much.
The dots started bouncing again. I hoped you would. I wish I could chat, but my flight is boarding.
Safe travels. Talk soon?
Yes.
Nicole flopped back on the bed. She had Fiona’s number, and that was more than she’d had a few minutes ago. She’d go home and get her shit together, and then she’d fight for this thing between them with every ounce of her being.
But first, she had her own flight to catch. Reluctantly, Nicole got up and showered and packed her things. She checked out of Fiona’s room and met her parents in the lobby.
“You okay?” her mom asked.
She bobbed her head. “Just…emotional about everything, I guess.”
“Did Fiona already leave?”
“Yeah.”
“It must have been hard saying goodbye after everything you’ve been through together.”
“It was.” But she was going to get through it. She thought of the drawing tucked safely away inside her suitcase and smiled.
Fiona might want to think she didn’t care, but she did. She cared just as much as Nicole did, and they’d sort this thing out. They would.
She and her parents took a taxi to the airport, and Nicole watched the planes soaring overhead, wondering which one of them was currently jetting toward France. Was Fiona already home? It couldn’t be a very long flight, certainly much shorter than the one to New York.
Onboard, Nicole settled into a window seat with her mom beside her. Her dad took the aisle, burying his nose in one of the in-flight magazines. Nicole sighed, attempting to corral her wildly racing thoughts. She stared out the window, watching as the ground dropped away beneath them. The Greek coast was visible below, dotted with islands. Would the plane fly over their island? Would she even recognize it from the air?
“So, you and Fiona, huh?” her mom said once they’d reached cruising altitude.
Nicole turned, unsure what to make of her mother’s words. “What about us?”
“Well, you’re…together, if I’m not mistaken?”
Okaaaay, maybe her mom hadn’t been as clueless when she walked in on Nicole and Fiona in bed together as she’d thought. “Um.”
“I think she’s great,” her mom said. “Is she going to come for a visit?”
“Mom, you just asked me if I’m in a relationship with a woman, and now you’re inviting her for a visit before we’ve even talked about this?” Nicole’s brain had flipped on its head so many times since she woke up that morning, she was starting to get whiplash.
“I’ve always known you liked both men and women. This isn’t a surprise.” At Nicole’s incredulous look, she raised her eyebrows. “I’m your mother. I know these things.”
“How?”
“Let’s start with the X-Files poster in your bedroom in high school, the one where you drew little hearts around Scully’s face?”
Nicole’s cheeks were on fire. They were really having this conversation right now? On an airplane of all places? “Those hearts were so small, no one could see them but me!”
Her mother gave her a look.
“What were you doing in my bedroom to be that close to the poster?”
“Changing your sheets,” her mother said. “And then there was Lauren, in college.”
“You knew about Lauren?” Nicole’s voice rose.
“You talked about her differently from your other friends. It was obvious you were involved romantically. But you never said anything to me, so I figured I’d let you tell me in your own time, and then you met Brandon, so I didn’t see any point in bringing it up.”
“Well then.” Nicole crossed her arms over her chest. “Does Dad know?”
“I’m sitting right here,” her father said pointedly.
“Oh my God.” Nicole looked away, pretending a sudden fascination with the puffy clouds drifting outside the window.
“You didn’t think we would be disappointed, did you?” he asked.
“No, well…I don’t know. We’re Catholic.” She darted a glance over at him.
“Well, I guess we’re the kind of modern Catholics who support our daughter’s right to love whoever she chooses.”
Tears flooded Nicole’s eyes. God, she was an emotional mess this morning. She turned her face toward the window again, blowing out a breath. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“How did you leave things with Fiona?” her mom asked.
“She told me to go home and get my shit together. Sorry.” She’d just told her parents she was bisexual, and now she’d graduated to swearing in front of them. Then again, she was thirty-five years old and swore on a regular basis without thinking twice, just not necessarily in front of her parents.
But her mom was laughing. “It was obvious that you two were smitten with each other. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
“She’s pretty determined to keep us apart, actually. She’s kind of a recluse in her real life, I think.”
“I could see that about her,” her mom said. “She looked like she wanted to escape our company a few times, but she was always perfectly polite.”
“She wouldn’t agree to see me again. She wants me to date other people.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but she has a point. I jumped straight out of my marriage into being stranded with her. Can I really trust my feelings right now?”
Her mom reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “Then you go home and sort yourself out like she asked you to, and then you fight like hell for her.”
13
Fiona wandered her house in a daze. Everything was exactly as she’d left it, and yet nothing was the same. She went into the garden to meditate, but her body felt off-center, as if she was trying to lean on someone who wasn’t there. Or maybe it was that she’d left a part of herself behind. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the things she and Nicole had left on the island, namely their clothes.
Would someone come along someday and find their dresses hanging from a crumbling column in the pavilion? Would they wonder what had become of the women who’d worn them? These were the idle details that tended to occupy her mind.
Eventually, she settled in her studio overlooking the garden, blank canvas in front of her and a palette of paint to her left. She’d create something to remember their time on the island, something that captured the beauty of what they’d shared, something that might help her regain her balance now that she was home. Exhilaration rushed through her veins at the prospect.
She dipped her brush into the paint and lifted it to the canvas with purpose. This. This was what she’d missed while she was stranded on that island. She’d missed the freedom to paint. To create these scenes that manifested in her head, immortalize them in startling color.
Three hours later, she sat staring at the image of their dresses—one red and one gray—fluttering against the ruined Greek columns, but it brought her no joy. It was wrong, the wrong image. Frustration swept through her as she stood, swiping her hands furiously through the paint, smearing it across the canvas unti
l only a streaky mess remained.
At its center, the color merged into a mottled brown, almost like the color of Nicole’s eyes or the way her hair looked when it billowed behind her on the ocean breeze.
Fiona had told her to go home and sort herself out, knowing full well Nicole would find someone new in the process—man or woman, she wasn’t sure—someone steady and dependable, someone who’d take her out for dinner and dancing in all the hottest spots in New York, someone who could offer her everything Fiona couldn’t. She’d let Nicole go, knowing she wouldn’t come back.
And now Fiona had to make her peace with it, because this was the life she’d chosen for herself, the life she needed. Nicole’s absence would fade in time.
A knock sounded at Fiona’s front door, and emotion blew through her like a hurricane, whirling in her mind. No one ever visited her unannounced. Nicole had come to beg for a second chance, and it was terrible and wonderful, and nothing and everything Fiona wanted, and her feet were already rushing toward the door when the knock sounded again, louder this time.
Strong. Brisk.
A man’s knock.
She stalled in the foyer, looking down at her paint-streaked hands, ignoring the pang of disappointment in her chest. “J’arrive,” she called. I’m coming.
She stepped into the washroom, noting the flecks of paint on her face and in her hair. Well, there was nothing for it. Quickly, she scrubbed away as much as she could and walked to the front door, pausing for a breath before she opened it.
Two police officers stood on her front step, wearing Greek uniforms. Why were Greek authorities at her home in France? This obviously had to do with what happened on the Cyprus Star, and honestly, it was the last thing she wanted to discuss today. She held in a weary sigh.
“Yassas,” she said, switching gears. Hello.
“Ma’am.” The officer addressed her in English, and that was just as well, because her knowledge of Greek was extremely limited. “We’re here to speak with Ms. Fiona Boone.”
“That’s me,” she said. “Please come in.”
“Thank you,” the younger officer said as they stepped inside.
“Can I offer you anything?” she asked, stalling. “Tea? Water?”
“No, thank you.”
She led the way into the living room and sat, picking at a flake of red paint under her fingernail as they sat at opposite ends of the sofa across from her.
“Do you know a man called Dimitris Aboulos?” the older officer asked in a heavy Greek accent.
Fiona’s head jerked up. Why in God’s name were they asking about Dimitris? “Yes, I do.”
“How do you know him?” the younger officer asked.
“We’ve been…acquaintances for a number of years.”
“He paid for your voyage on the Cyprus Star?”
She paused, drawing a breath to keep the irritation out of her tone. “Yes. He was supposed to accompany me, but he was called away on business at the last minute.”
“What kind of business?”
Fiona looked between them. What the fuck was this about? They looked very serious, almost as if she’d done something wrong. Or perhaps Dimitris had. “I don’t know. He doesn’t share details about his work with me.”
“But you believed he would be making the trip with you?”
“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest, noting a smear of black paint on the bodice of her dress. “What’s this about?”
“We will ask the questions here, ma’am,” the older officer said.
Fiona’s confusion had transformed itself now into concern. “Do I need representation for this conversation?”
“We are not here to arrest you. You are under no suspicion as long as you cooperate with our investigation,” the younger officer said.
She stared between them, hands clenched in her lap.
“Can you please tell us what you know of Mr. Aboulos’s business dealings?”
“Nothing really.” She frowned, searching her brain for anything that might explain why these officers were here, questioning her about Dimitris. “He never talked about work when we were together.”
“What did you talk about?” the older officer asked, and Fiona schooled her expression, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt when she wanted to scream, What the fuck do you think we talked about? “You said you had been acquaintances for many years. You had planned to take a weeklong cruise together. It sounds like you knew him quite well.”
“We only spoke casually,” she said, refusing to detail her sex life for these two men. “Food, movies, that sort of thing.”
“And was your relationship romantic in nature?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, although I have no idea what that has to do with anything that happened on the boat. As you know, Dimitris wasn’t even there.”
“Mr. Aboulos has been arrested in connection with the hijacking of the Cyprus Star.”
NICOLE SKIMMED the article that had just popped into her newsfeed. Mostly, she’d avoided the media storm surrounding everything that had gone down on the Cyprus Star. She and Fiona had been isolated from it while they were lost at sea and had both declined to be interviewed after they made it home. But this article contained news that a man had been arrested as some kind of mastermind to the whole event, alleging that he had ties to organized crime, and okay, that freaked Nicole out a little bit.
She copied a link to the article and texted it to Fiona. Have you seen this?
They’d talked only sporadically in the week since they left each other in that hotel room in Greece, and only by text. Nicole was missing her like crazy but trying her best to do what Fiona had asked and sort herself out.
Yes, was Fiona’s reply.
Can you believe the guy has ties to organized crime? That’s crazy.
Did you actually read the fucking article?
Actually, she’d only skimmed it, and now she had the uncomfortable feeling she’d missed something. She toggled to the browser on her phone and scrolled down, eyes roaming over the details.
“…long-time girlfriend, Fiona Boone, also a guest on the Cyprus Star at the time…”
The phrase jumped out at her, and Nicole’s stomach dropped, dragging her with it into the chair behind her desk. She toggled back to the text window, finger hovering momentarily over the green icon next to Fiona’s name before she pressed it. It rang, unanswered, until voicemail picked up.
Dammit, Fi, I know you’re there, she texted, and then dialed again.
This time, Fiona picked up on the first ring. “Read it properly now, have you?”
Nicole’s breath lodged in her throat at the sound of her voice. “Yes.”
Fiona sighed, and the weight of it reached all the way across the Atlantic, settling into the mass of worry in Nicole’s stomach. “He’d intended me to be part of it. Apparently, my father’s become quite wealthy in recent years. Dimitris thought he might get a nice payout for me.”
Nicole pressed a hand to her mouth, looking out at the New York skyline beyond her window. Her arms ached to hold Fiona. She couldn’t even imagine what she was feeling about this. “I’m so sorry. So he never planned to meet you on the boat?”
“No,” Fiona said tartly. “He lured me onto the Cyprus Star so he could hold me for ransom.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“We screwed up his plans, didn’t we?”
“I bet he never thought you’d jump off the boat,” Nicole said with a smile. “Fi—”
“I don’t really want to talk about him, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay.” Nicole had always assumed that at least part of Fiona’s fiercely independent streak was a result of being hurt. How would this latest betrayal affect her? “I miss you.”
“Don’t,” Fiona warned, her tone soft.
“I’m not going to get all sappy on the phone, don’t worry.”
“Dating anyone?” Fiona asked.
So this was how she wanted to play it? Ni
cole spun in her chair to face the window. “I signed up for one of those online dating sites, but I’m only doing it for you. I’ll go on a few dates—men and women—but I’m not going to sleep with any of them.”
“Do your parents know?” Fiona asked, purposefully ignoring the majority of what Nicole had just told her.
“Yes.”
“And they’re supportive?”
“Yes. Of my sexuality in general, and of my relationship with you.” Let’s see her ignore that one…
Fiona inhaled sharply. “You told them?”
“I didn’t have to. They saw it on their own.”
“Very astute of them,” Fiona said, tension radiating over the line.
“They like you, and they even like that you’re forcing me to figure my shit out before I can see you again.”
“Well then.”
Nicole squeezed the phone, wishing she could squeeze the human on the other end of the line. “How are you?”
“Fully recovered, although I’m told I’ll have a nasty scar.”
“I think it will be a beautiful scar.”
“It’s possible you’re biased,” Fiona said, but her tone had softened again.
“Oh, I’m definitely biased.”
“How’s work?” Fiona asked, again steering the conversation away from herself.
Nicole looked around her office, trying to find the right words. “It’s the same, but not the same, if that makes any sense.”
“Oh.” Something in Fiona’s voice made Nicole think she might know the feeling. “How so?”
“My job hasn’t changed, but I have, if I had to guess.” Nicole twirled a pen idly on her desk, watching as the silver clip caught the sun’s rays. “I love what I do, and I’m good at it, but my job had completely taken over my life. I was working long hours and hadn’t taken a vacation in years. I think…I guess I was partly avoiding having to deal with the fact that my marriage was falling apart.”
“You’re really taking this self-exploration thing seriously, aren’t you?”
Nicole smiled. “I am. Being shipwrecked will do that to a person, I guess.”