by Shari Low
Her smile was automatic. ‘Much nicer. You’ll love them.’ It was out before she even realised she was saying it. Damn it. Where had that come from? This was a holiday romance, not a preamble to marriage and two-point-two kids. Bugger, he was probably totally freaked out now. He’d have his stuff packed and be waiting for that bus to leave first thing tomorrow.
Face flushed, and not from the heat, Agnetha was about to backpedal furiously when he leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I think I will,’ he murmured, before their lips met again.
The noise from the pool, the scent of sun cream, the searing heat; everything faded as his fingertips cupped her face and every nerve and bone in her body responded to him.
‘Urgh, you two really need to, like, get a room.’
Agnetha could feel Aaron’s lips break into a smile even before he pulled back and held his hand up to the new arrival. Zac was wearing the same grey suit he’d had on last night, the top buttons of his black shirt open.
Aaron squinted against the sun. ‘Man, you look like crap.’
Zac appeared to find this amusing. ‘Cheers, bud. I may look like crap, but I’m a fucking hero at the office, so I’ll take it.’
Zac plonked down on the end of Agnetha’s sunlounger, completely unaware that he’d just taken a wrecking ball to an incredibly special moment. Agnetha tried really hard not to mind. For all his cocky bluster, Zac made her laugh and she could see that there was a really close bond between the two men. They’d met in college, and Zac had moved to LA from New York, sharing a flat with Aaron while trying to find a way into the entertainment industry. He’d eventually landed the CAA job and he was determined that nothing was getting in the way of him rising through the ranks.
Agnetha glanced over and saw that Celeste was still in the pool, oblivious to Zac’s arrival. ‘Tell us all about it. And make it quick before Celeste decks you for running out on her last night.’
Zac had the decency to squirm a little uncomfortably. ‘Listen, Aggs, I need to talk to you about Celeste.’
‘Here it comes,’ Aaron whistled knowingly, shaking his head. ‘He’s usually got a six week attention span. We’re now at twelve. It was only a matter of time.’
Agnetha felt a clenching sensation in her stomach. Bollocks. Zac’s lack of denial told her where he was going with this and Celeste would not take it well. She didn’t do rejection. It didn’t take a psychologist to understand that underneath all that riotous zest for life, her childhood had left its scars and for Celeste, it was a lightning reaction to any sense of abandonment. She hoped beyond words that Aaron was wrong…
Zac sighed. ‘I need to call it a day. It’s not her, it’s just that… well, this work thing.’
Aaron wasn’t wrong.
‘I need you guys to run interference. Look, she’s a nice girl and all that, and we had a good time, but the whole steady relationship isn’t my deal right now.’
‘Come on, Zac. We’re heading back to the UK in a few days. Can’t you let it ride for now?’ Even as she was saying it, Agnetha could hear how wrong it sounded.
The repetitive tapping of Zac’s foot on the tile floor was a definite tell that there wasn’t going to be an agreeable reply to the question. He ran his tanned fingers through his long blond hair, a gesture Agnetha had seen him make many times when he was on a work call and hustling or pressing for something.
‘That’s the problem. Last night Jilly Jones had a meltdown. Dived into the Bellagio Fountains naked in front of dozens of tourists and some paps.’
‘You’re joking!’ Agnetha gasped. Jilly Jones was her favourite romcom actress. America’s Southern sweetheart, she had a squeaky-clean reputation, perpetuated in the kind of movies that you watched after a break-up to restore your faith in love.
Zac glanced around to make sure no one could overhear, then lowered his voice to make extra sure the conversation was just between them. ‘She was off her head on coke. It’s been a problem for a while.’
Now Agnetha’s chin was next to Zac’s tapping foot on the floor.
‘My boss represents her and he called me last night. I had to go get her, salvage the situation, call a doctor in and get her on lockdown until a private jet could be arranged back to LA. We’re leaving in an hour.’
Aaron’s abs visibly rolled as he effortlessly pulled himself up to a sitting position on the sunlounger. ‘So, what… you’re going too?’
Zac shrugged, with no hint of an apology. ‘I need to, man. This is a big opportunity for me. Like, up close and personal with Jilly. If I handle this, it could be what I need to take the next step up.’
On one hand, Agnetha could understand. But on the other…
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ They’d all been too deep in discussion to notice that Celeste had climbed out of the pool, and was now standing, in a leopard bikini, hands on hips, looking like a bronzed Amazonian goddess who was about to go to war.
Zac went for the direct approach. ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night, but I need to split. It’s a work thing. I’m needed back in LA.’
‘And you think you can just snap your fingers and I’ll jump?’ Celeste folded her arms, clearly not getting a full read on the situation.
‘No, I, eh, I need to head back on my own. My boss hired a jet. I just came back to get my stuff.’
The pin was out of the grenade and it had just been tossed into the middle of the conversation. It was all Agnetha could do not to put her fingers in her ears and crouch low.
‘Fuck you. Fuck. You,’ Celeste spat, before spinning round. The splash she made as she dived back into the pool soaked Zac’s shoes.
It was a small price to pay, Agnetha decided. Her heart hurt for her friend. Celeste put on a tough shell, but Agnetha knew that underneath there was a good person that just needed to be loved. She was about to follow her, when Celeste climbed back up on to the shoulders of the UCLA hunk, and gave Zac the middle finger. Perhaps later would be a better time to check how she was feeling.
‘I guess that got the message across then,’ Zac deadpanned, shaking his damp feet as he stood up. ‘I’ll catch you guys back in LA. Just do me a favour…’
‘Shoot.’ The corners of Aaron’s mouth were turning up at the edges.
‘Make sure she doesn’t buy a baseball bat on the way back to LA.’
‘Can’t promise anything,’ Agnetha teased. He deserved it. He’d just dumped her best friend, so Girl Code demanded it.
‘Man, tough crowd.’ Zac was still shaking his head as he disappeared through the loungers to retrieve his things from his room.
Aaron lay back down and rolled over on his side to face her again. ‘Guess we’ve something else in common.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Seriously unpredictable friends.’
‘No arguments here,’ Agnetha smiled, kissing him again. God, she could not get enough of this guy. He was absolutely intoxicating. She loved a romance, adored the early stages of a relationship and had fallen fast before, but this felt different. This was…
‘I really hope we’ve got something else in common,’ he whispered, making her stomach flip.
‘What’s that?’ she answered, enjoying the game.
He was watching her face now, studying her reaction.
‘I’m falling in love with you. And I was just kinda wondering if you felt the same?’
8
Hope
Hi,
I’m not really sure how to start this email or what to say. I guess, first of all, I need to apologise if this comes as a shock to you. I’m unaware of the circumstances of my birth, so if you weren’t aware of my existence, I’m sorry to break the news this way.
My name is Hope McTeer, and according to the results of my DNA test, I’m your daughter (I didn’t want to be presumptuous or freak you out by referring to you as ‘Dad’ at the start of this email).
I’m twenty-two and I assume I was born in Scotland, as this is where my adoption was formalised. I have had no acce
ss to my adoption records, so I know no more than that. As you can imagine, it was quite a surprise to discover my biological father is American, but I am, quite honestly, intrigued to learn more.
I also want you to know that I’m very grateful to have been adopted by two wonderful parents who have loved and supported me every day since I became their daughter. I’m now studying medicine at university and live with my adoptive sister in Glasgow.
It goes without saying that I would very much like to meet you. I understand if this takes time to process, so please be assured that I will not pester or badger you with more emails. I’ll wait in the hope that you will feel the same way and that I will hear from you soon.
Yours,
Hope
The digital clock at the top of the arrivals board said 10.05 a.m.. Hope scanned the lists of incoming flights, searching for one from Heathrow. He’d arrived there from LA at 7 a.m., so hopefully he made his 8.45 a.m. connection to Glasgow and would right now be touching down on a runway on the other side of this building.
She wondered if everyone around her could see that she was actually trembling with nerves and about as light-headed as it was possible to be without keeling over. She couldn’t faint now. Not here. He could come right out of there and step over her, not realising that she was the welcoming committee.
Heathrow. There it was. Delayed. Now arriving at 11 a.m.. Crap. She should have checked for delays before she left the house, but between her anxiety and her outraged sister, it had completely slipped her mind. Now she had to try not to faint for at least another hour. She couldn’t guarantee that it was possible.
For years, she’d watched family reunion shows with obsessive interest, and wondered how she would feel when and if the moment came. Now she knew. She’d be absolutely terrified, yet incredibly excited too. This was the point at the start of the roller coaster that was equal parts fear, adrenalin and desperation to get going.
There was no point standing here for an hour. Behind her, Starbucks was busy, but there were a few single seats at the high bar counter from where she would have a view of the arrivals board and the doors.
10.15 a.m.. She bought a latte that she probably wouldn’t be able to drink, and a lemon muffin that she probably wouldn’t be able to eat, and climbed up on the bar stool, eyes trained on the sliding doors that were constantly opening and closing, each movement bringing through people pulling suitcases, businessmen clutching briefcases, cabin crew with relaxed expressions, happy to be off duty. Every now and then, someone would break from the crowd and run towards a new arrival, making everyone around them smile. And making Hope’s heart hammer so loudly in her chest she was sure it could crack a rib at any moment.
10.35 a.m.. Coffee still not touched. Muffin still not eaten. Hope picked up her phone and called her mum as promised. She answered on the first ring with, ‘Are you okay?’ It was unusual to hear anxiety in her mum’s voice. Dora was the calmest woman that Hope had ever known, even in times of adversity and heartache. It was a strength that had been tested many times over the years.
‘I’m fine, Mum. I’m at the airport. His flight is delayed until 11 o’clock, so he should be here just after that.’
‘How are you feeling, my love?’ Dora’s voice was calmer now, more like herself.
‘Nervous. Terrified. What if he’s horrible? What if he doesn’t like me?’
‘He’ll like you. And you’re far too lovely to have horrible genes.’ Joking now, and Hope was so grateful. Her mum always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’d better go and phone Maisie before she puts out a bulletin on Radio Clyde saying I’m missing, possibly abducted.’
‘Good idea. Just keep us posted, love. We’ll both be by our phones all day and can be with you in no time if you need us.’
‘I know. I love you.’
‘I love you too, darling. Big hugs.’
10.45 a.m.. Hope took a sip of the latte and tried not to grimace. The muffin was still a step too far.
She decided she couldn’t face speaking to Maisie, so she opted for a text.
His flight is delayed. Coming in at 11 a.m.. Just waiting in Starbucks.
* * *
Have you eaten?
* * *
Yes.
* * *
You’re lying.
That made Hope smile.
I am. But I’ve got a muffin.
* * *
Trying really hard not to make inappropriate jokes right now.
* * *
You’re so immature.
* * *
I know. Sorry. Text me as soon as you can to let me know what he’s like. And if there’s a problem, use the pepper spray.
* * *
I don’t have pepper spray. Pretty sure it’s illegal.
* * *
Bought one on the internet. I slipped it in your bag.
A feeling of cold dread worked its way up from Hope’s gut. Surely not… She picked up her backpack and unzipped the main compartment. Yep, there it was. A small silver can nestled between her iPad and the latest Dorothy Koomson novel. She was suddenly very aware of the two armed policemen just metres away, patrolling the terminal. There she was, in an airport, with a weapon she was fairly sure was illegal. Christ Almighty.
You’re a fkn maniac!
* * *
You won’t be saying that if you need it.
Hope closed her eyes and inhaled, trying not to panic. As if today wasn’t stressful enough. Now she could add possible arrest to the list of things that could go wrong. Great. Smashing. But then, she knew that Maisie was only behaving like this because she loved her.
She felt the anger dissipate and picked up her phone again.
Need to go. Will buzz you later. Love you.
* * *
Love you too. Stay safe.
* * *
Xx
She put the phone back down on the counter in front of her and exhaled, trying to channel her mum’s energy as opposed to her sister’s. She had this. She could do it. She’d faced worse and survived.
10.55 a.m.. Another sip of latte. One bite of muffin that felt like it took five minutes to chew and swallow. This was excruciating. She was a planner by nature, always had been. She liked to know the facts, to think things through, analyse from every angle, prepare for every outcome. This one was out of her control though. It was all down to him and she had no idea what to expect.
Picking up her phone again, she flicked on to her Ancestry account and clicked on the inbox. His reply had come in the day after she’d contacted him.
Dear Hope,
Like you, I don’t know what to say. I had no idea that I had fathered a child during that time and I’m stunned. Stunned, but so grateful that you’ve found me. There’s so much to say, but I want to do it in person. I’m in LA but will come to you if you want to meet? I can get there Saturday. Please say yes?
Of course, she’d agreed. She’d crammed her studies all week so that she could take the weekend off, and she’d managed to juggle her hospital shifts around so she didn’t need to be back in work until Monday night. A whole weekend to get to know the father who was a complete stranger to her. That’s if he even planned on staying that long.
He’d sent his flight arrival details an hour or so after she agreed to meet him and that had been the last contact other than exchanging mobile numbers.
11.04 a.m.. Flight Landed. Coffee and muffin discarded. Hope left Starbucks and went to the front of the crowd that was waiting a few metres back from the doors. There were several men in suits there, holding up cards with names on them, and Hope suddenly realised that she had no way of recognising him. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Dammit.
She texted his mobile.
I’m in arrivals. White dress. Blue jacket.
Send.
She stared at the screen. Three moving dots. He was replying.
On way. I’ll find you.
Oh G
od. Her heart was racing again as the doors opened. Closed. Opened. Closed.
Don’t faint. Do not faint. The cops will find the pepper spray and his first act as father will be to bail you out. Do. Not. Faint.
Doors opened.
Was that him? A grey haired, forty something hipster type in a suit seemed to be searching for someone. Hope was about to step forward when he spotted one of the signs and gestured to the driver holding it. Nope. Not him.
Another guy. Mid forties. Dad chinos. Brogues. Corporate haircut. He paused, scanned the crowd, then turned to the left and seemed to continue his search as he walked out of the area. Was that him? It could be. He’d be completely unfamiliar with this airport so he may think the arrivals area stretched along the corridor.
She was still staring at the man disappearing from view when someone much closer spoke. ‘Hope?’
Her head spun back and there he was, right in front of her. She knew. Just knew.
Eyes wide, she managed to nod and stammer out a reply. ‘Y… y… yes. Hi.’
It was the strangest sensation she’d ever experienced. When she was a little girl, she would wonder if she looked like anyone. Sometimes she’d search the faces of people in the street, in the library, in airports, to see if there was anything there that she recognised, any sign of who she belonged to. There never was. Until now.
Same colouring. Same shade of hair, although his was flecked with salt and pepper strands. But the most striking thing of all was the eyes. Grey. A shade of steel that she’d never seen before except when she looked in a mirror.