by Hudson Lin
“Oh.” Vivian paused with a cherry tomato pressed against her lips. “That’s nice, that they get to travel so much. They’re retired?”
Marco shrugged, folding a slice of salami around a chunk of comté. “They’ve always been taking off to some place or another. My dad traveled a lot for work. Once I got to high school, my mom tended to go with him.”
“Who stayed home with you?”
That was the question he’d never been able to answer. “I guess I was old enough to take care of myself by then.”
“That’s . . .” Vivian trailed off.
Marco finished the thought for her. “Lonely?” His laugh was tinged heavily with bitterness. “Yeah, a little bit. But I had friends. I was pretty popular in school. It wasn’t so bad.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
He shrugged. It was what it was. He’d managed back then, and it’d made him who he was now.
“Well, that sucks. I’m sorry.” Vivian reached across their picnic and put her hand on his. Marco flipped his hand over and wrapped his fingers around hers. His heart thumped. His mouth grew dry. She was so close, and all it would take was . . .
Vivian leaned in and pressed her lips against his mouth. It didn’t register at first, the soft pressure of the kiss, simple and sensual at the same time. But once it did, Marco kissed back. He buried his fingers into the hairs at the nape of Vivian’s neck, the silkiness making him groan. They were everything he’d imagined they would be.
Vivian’s tongue slipped into his mouth. She tasted heavenly. Like sunshine and warm rain, grass in between his toes, and the smoothest sheets against his skin. She smelled like everything he’d ever wanted but was too afraid to acknowledge. Yearning blossomed inside of him, not simply for the physical but for something deeper, more primitive, the need to know her and to be known by her. He needed it more than anything he’d ever needed before.
Marco shifted on the blanket to get closer. His knee hit something, and Vivian jumped back.
“Oh!”
“Oh shit.” He’d knocked over a wine glass and it’d spilled across the blanket onto Vivian’s leg. “Here.” Marco grabbed the cloth napkins that’d come in the basket, wiping up the pink-colored wine.
“It’s okay.” Vivian laughed. “I’m fine. Good thing I’m wearing shorts. Skin dries easily.” She took the napkin from him and finished the job. “I guess that’s the end of our picnic, eh?” Vivian said, tossing the soiled cloth into the basket.
She looked up and sighed. Her hair was a little mussed, and her lips were rosy and puffy. She was the most gorgeous human being Marco had ever laid eyes on. He didn’t want the picnic to end, but they’d demolished most of the food, and the sun’s last rays were dipping past the horizon.
“I guess so,” he agreed reluctantly. They packed up the remaining food, rolled the wet blanket into a bundle, and headed back to their hotel. Everything was perfect.
At the hotel, they dropped the basket off at the concierge with a merci and stepped into the elevator. The minute the door closed, Vivian was on him. Her breasts were full and soft against his chest, her ribs tapering to a narrow waist. Shivers ran up Marco’s arms as he wrapped them around her. Every nerve of his body was on high alert, attuned to the smart, witty, beautiful woman he held. He widened his stance against the wall to pull her even closer.
Vivian’s lips on his was perfection. Pliant and demanding, her mouth was intoxicating like the wine they’d drank. Every inch of him wanted her, to be consumed by her, to be filled to the brim with her.
She raked her fingernails over his scalp, and Marco melted, breaking off the kiss to breathe as his cells dissolved under her touch. She kissed along his jaw, nipped gently at his ear, then licked a long swipe down his throat with her tongue. He clung to her with the last of his strength. She was killing him, and he longed to die the petite mort he knew she could give him.
The elevator dinged, and the door slid open. Vivian jumped back, hair tousled, lips puffy and glistening from their shared kiss. An older couple stood outside, white-haired and wrinkly with age. The man looked a little shocked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The woman gave them a salacious grin as Vivian and Marco slipped past them.
They giggled all the way to their rooms around the corner until Vivian slumped against her door, contentment oozing from her.
“Thank you for today,” she whispered, pulling Marco toward her.
Marco gathered her in his arms, marveling at how good it felt. “I had an amazing time.”
Vivian arched up into him for a kiss, and he obliged, their tongues dueling and dancing until they were both out of breath. Marco’s head spun, but he suspected it wasn’t only from a lack of oxygen.
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Vivian cast a mock glare at him. “I’m not inviting you in.”
Marco raised one hand, holding it up like he was taking a vow. “I would never have presumed.” With someone else—anyone else—he might have. But this was Vivian, and she ignited something inside him that a fast tumble between the sheets wouldn’t satisfy. He took a step back, immediately missing the heat of her body. “Good night.”
Vivian’s smile was sweet and sultry and everything Marco had ever wanted in life. “Good night.”
~~~~~
Marco had been a coward and skipped breakfast that morning. He’d even ignored Vivian’s knock on his door, turning on the shower to drown it out.
He’d stepped into his room last night floating on the clouds, higher than any plane he’d ever flown on. He’d awoken this morning having crash-landed in a harsh reality. There was no way things between him and Vivian could work out. Flight attendants had notoriously unpredictable schedules, gone for days at a time, often unreachable when they were away. It was why so many of them were single. It was difficult enough maintaining a relationship with someone who was around; it’d be impossible to build anything substantial with someone he never saw.
He’d had firsthand experience of that with his parents. He didn’t need to relive it.
Apprehension tainted everything he touched, throwing every step off balance. He went down to the lobby feeling like he was walking in someone else’s body. Everyone was there already, waiting at the door for their van to arrive.
Vivian spotted him and rushed over with a secret smile shared only between the two of them. Marco froze, his gut twisting into knots.
“Hey! Missed you at breakfast this morning. Is everything okay?” Her hand on his arm was like a brand.
He dislodged it and ushered her into an alcove where the house phone sat.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He tugged on his tie and loosened it—regulation dress code be damned. “I wanted to talk to you before we leave.”
“Sure, what’s wrong?”
Concern marked Vivian’s expression, making the words stick in Marco’s throat.
“I had a really good time yesterday,” he started, not sure how to convey his uncertainty.
Vivian chuckled, suspicion making it come out stiff. “I did too.”
“But, um, I did a lot of thinking.” He cleared his throat, wishing he had some wine to ease the flow of words. “And I’m not sure we should do”—he waved a hand between them—“this.”
Her demeanor changed in an instant. From intimate and affectionate to distant and reserved in a split second. She stepped back, tugging at her vest and smoothing her skirt. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we’re colleagues. We work together, and I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to get involved with a co-worker.” The hypocrisy was bitter on his tongue. Marco had never hesitated to get involved with co-workers in the past, but none of them had been Vivian. None of them lit him up, pissed him off, and then soothed the sting with a teasing smile. His heart had never been on the line before.
Vivian looked like she was about to break into tears and pull a knife on him at the same time. Her eyes were hard, lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers were balled into fists by her side, a
nd her whole body vibrated like she could barely contain herself. She nodded, a carefully controlled movement.
“I agree.” Her voice was unsteady, breaking at the end. “Never a good idea to get involved with a colleague.” The emphasis she put on those words made it sound like Marco had suggested they engage in something debauched and deprived.
She turned on her heel.
“Viv, wait!” He didn’t know why he called her back. It wasn’t like there was anything else he could say to make the situation better. But watching her walk away left a grimy feeling he hated. Loss and shame and like something was breaking apart inside of him.
Vivian stopped, shoulders thrust back in defiance. She peered over her shoulder, her glare colder than a glacier. “Don’t ever call me that again. Only family calls me that.” She ran the rest of the way to the door, grabbed her luggage, and climbed into the van next to Clare.
Chapter Six
Out of the corner of Vivian’s eye, she caught Marco bending down so some blond French girl could whisper in his ear. His laughter rang across the cabin, bright and happy. She set the coffee pot down on the cart with a bang.
“You okay?” Clare whispered at her from the other side of the cart.
Vivian forced her lips to curl up. “Yeah, fine.”
Clare obviously didn’t believe her. Whatever. Her job was to be polite, not to be happy. They finished their section and pushed the cart back into the galley. The second the curtain was in place, Clare turned on her.
“It’s him, isn’t it? Marco. What did he do?”
Stunned by Clare’s abrupt accusation, Vivian didn’t have time to temper her reaction. Tears stung at her eyes. It didn’t make sense. Fine. They’d kissed. Lousy, delicious, body-tingling kisses. But it didn’t mean they were a couple or even friends with benefits. And yet his rejection had struck Vivian so deep she couldn’t breathe.
“God, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Clare muttered.
“No, don’t. He didn’t do anything.” Vivian sniffled and started tidying the galley.
Clare looked like she wanted to object, but Marco came in before she could say anything. The death glare she gave him made even Vivian wince. They worked in awkward silence until Clare slipped back out.
Marco immediately turned to her. “Vivian, I’m sorry about this morning.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She hated how her voice shook. “You made yourself very clear, and it’s better that you’re up front about it now rather than string me along.”
Marco let out an exasperated sound. “Vivian, please understand—”
“No, you don’t get to be annoyed.” She pointed a finger at him and then drew it back when her hand trembled.
“I’m not annoyed. I’m . . .” Marco braced his hands on his hips and hung his head.
“What? You’re what?”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” The sincerity in Marco’s eyes made his words harder to accept.
Yesterday, at the picnic, the sun had been setting, casting the Eiffel Tower in a magical glow. The food and the wine had been divine. Marco had been so sweet, so utterly romantic that she hadn’t noticed she was kissing him until her lips were already on his.
She didn’t know if she’d wanted a relationship or anything beyond the fact that he was kind, he felt safe, and she hadn’t had that sort of connection with anyone in a long time. Bits and pieces of their time together flashed through her mind. Marco being silly at Notre-Dame, their selfie at the Louvre, the surprise picnic he’d planned for them. Maybe he was like that with everyone. Maybe she’d misinterpreted his general friendliness as something it wasn’t. She’d been a fool.
Vivian crossed her arms. “You didn’t.”
His gaze on her face was hot and examining like a laser trying to break through her shell. “I’m sorry anyway.”
She nodded once, not trusting her voice, then turned and left him in the galley.
~~~~~
Vivian was avoiding him. She had been for most of the flight from Paris, and now almost the entire flight to London. He deserved it. He’d been an asshole. He wanted to make things right with her, but he wasn’t sure how.
He missed her.
Clare was pissed at him too. She was alternating between the look of death and the look of immense disappointment. Marco wasn’t sure which one was worse. She would probably know how to fix everything he’d messed up. But he didn’t have the courage to ask. Perhaps it was better this way. Why start something that would be doomed to failure?
But God, how he missed her. The light touches they’d exchanged as they’d squeezed past each other in the aisle. Her laughter, her razor-sharp come backs. He’d discovered that polite Vivian was so much more devastating than salty Vivian. It was like a chunk of his flesh had been ripped from his body and he was no longer whole.
“Garbage. Déchets.” He inched along the aisle collecting empty plastic cups, dirty paper napkins, and all sorts of weird things people wanted to throw out. Some of it was seriously questionable. He took his time, lingering at every row. He was in no rush to share galley space with Vivian.
A few rows ahead of him, two young people got up from their seats and headed toward the back of the plane. They paused in front of the lavatory, whispered to one another, and then both slipped inside. Marco rolled his eyes. Great. And gross. People didn’t realize how disgusting the lavatories were. The guy hadn’t even been wearing his shoes. Ew.
Protocol was that they ask fornicating passengers to vacate the lavatory, but Marco was in no mood to deal with two horny teenagers. If they thought sex on a plane was exhilarating, he would leave them to it. At least they were getting some.
He worked his way through the section, then went to dispose of his bag of refuse.
A solid knock caught his attention.
“Excuse me,” came Vivian’s voice. “You’re not allowed to do that in there.”
Marco poked his head around the corner. Vivian was standing right in front of the lavatory, scowl firmly in place.
“Do you really have to do that?” Marco asked. A grave error. Vivian turned the full weight of her wrath on to him. “Sorry,” he recanted immediately, raising a hand in apology. He should have learned his lesson from last time.
If she could stab him with her eyes, Marco would’ve been dead already. She gave the door another solid knock. “Excuse me. I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seats, please.”
Tension vibrated off Vivian. Having a showdown with passengers was never going to end well, not in the age of cell phones and when people in nearby rows were starting to notice.
Everything in him wanted to step in and defuse the situation. They were just teenagers being stupid. And it wasn’t like there was anyone else waiting to use the lavatory. But Marco kept his mouth glued shut.
Vivian was a professional. She’d made that clear the first day they’d met. And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d witnessed her in action plenty of times since then. Why couldn’t he stop trying to be so helpful and let her do her job?
Her hands were balled into fists, and she eyed him as if daring him to step in. Vivian raised her arm, and Marco took a step backward in self-defense. Instead, she knocked on the door again, never taking her glare off Marco, and the door slid open. Oh, thank God.
The two teenagers emerged, sheepish grins on their faces, hair all amuck. “Sorry,” the girl whispered. “It was his idea.”
Vivian smiled back, so convincing even Marco almost believed it. “That’s okay. But it’s dangerous if we hit turbulence. Plus it’s really unhygienic. The lavatories don’t get cleaned much.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide, and she slapped the boy on the arm. “See? I told you! I need to go disinfect myself now.” They scurried back to their seats, and Vivian’s shoulders drooped before she turned to him.
Marco braced himself.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” she said again, voice low and deadpan. Her st
are was icy cold, and Marco shivered under it.
He raised both hands, palms out. “Yeah, sorry.”
She brushed past him, and he got a whiff of her scent, sunshine and warm rain. It made his gut clench and his heart ache. He may have made the biggest mistake of his life.
~~~~~
Vivian ducked her head and slipped out of the hotel’s front entrance like she was a rebellious teenager sneaking out of the house. It was ridiculous. She had no obligation to spend the day in London with Marco, even if they had once talked about all the things they’d see together.
Besides, British food was notoriously bad, so she didn’t have to worry about having to find some hidden gem of a restaurant or having the concierge prepare a decadent picnic. She could find her own way through the city and feed herself like she’d done a dozen times in the past. She didn’t need him.
But that didn’t explain why she felt so alone as she hopped onto the London Underground and checked the map to make sure she was headed in the right direction. She found an empty seat, feeling like she was miles away from the people around her.
Opposite her were two young people. The boy had his arm around the girl and was whispering something funny into her ear. Next to them was an elderly couple, hands clasped as they swayed together under the train’s rocking movement. The train arrived at a station, and two women boarded. One stood against the wall, and the other stood between her legs, their arms wrapped around each other.
Everywhere she looked were people, happy and in love. It didn’t usually bother her, but today the reminder sent a sharp pang through her chest. She lowered her chin. It didn’t matter that Marco had no interest in her. She was fine on her own. She still had her dad, and a job she loved, and cities all over the world to explore.
She tossed her head back, shifting her bangs out of the way. She was in London, and she had things to see and places to visit. There was no point dwelling on what she couldn’t change.
An announcement was made for Victoria Station, and Vivian stood. She followed the signs out of the station and wandered the narrow streets until the crowds thickened. The black asphalt on the road changed to a burnished red, and suddenly she was in the open square in front of Buckingham Palace. Black wrought iron gates were topped with gold trim. A stately white building stood behind them, and the monument to Queen Victoria stood in front.