He's Back: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  “It's a cold morning,” I commented cheerfully to the driver. My voice came out all high-pitched and I cleared my throat, trying to fix it.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “It's pretty cold out there. Your man coming down?”

  “He's just locking up for us,” I explained. I coughed. Why is my voice so squeaky? I looked out of the window anxiously. My heart was thumping in my chest. Come on. Drake where are you?

  I saw the door open and Drake stepped out. He was carrying his suitcase and his bag, walking as slowly and unobtrusively as possible toward us. At the same time, I saw the door of the Corsa open.

  “Drake,” I whispered urgently under my breath. Someone was getting out. A tall man with a leather jacket and jeans, dark glasses.

  The taxi-driver frowned at me. “Sorry, ma'am?” he frowned. “You say something?”

  “No,” I said in a strained voice. “Nothing. There's my husband now,” I added, praying the man would get out and speed up the proceedings. The undercover man from the red car was walking over.

  “Drake...” I hissed under my breath as the taxi-man slid out and opened the trunk. “Please. Hurry up!”

  I could hear the taxi-man muttering to Drake, discussing the weather as he opened the trunk.

  “Cold day, hey?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Thump. Thump. The cases landed in the trunk. I stifled a scream as I saw the man cross the road and enter the apartment-block's parking place.

  “Drake!” I cried out.

  The man was maybe a hundred feet away now. I suddenly had a terrifying thought. What if he had a gun? What if he shot at Drake? Now I knew why he'd sent me out ahead.

  “No...” I murmured, terrified.

  The trunk slammed and the rear door opened. Drake slipped in and shut it. I saw the man see the change of place and jog towards us, heading from the gate.

  “Go...” I murmured under my breath. The taxi-driver was taking his time, it seemed, a long stroll from the trunk to the front of the car. The door opened and he slipped inside.

  “Okay,” he said, turning the key in the ignition. “Time to go.”

  We pulled out of the parking-space as the man with the sunglasses reached us. He saw us pull away and broke into a run. My heart was in my mouth and I almost screamed, my hands clenched around my knee as he approached us. We pulled off into the street.

  I saw him let his arms drop to his sides, a gesture of utter impatience.

  “Whew,” I whispered. I leaned back, shuddering, and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the taxi-driver was looking at me oddly.

  “You okay, ma'am?” he asked.

  I let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. Sorry. I'm fine.”

  “My wife's feeling nauseous.”

  “Oh. That's bad,” the driver said sympathetically. “You wanna call a doctor or something?”

  “No,” I said shakily. “It's okay. I'm fine...”

  It was only as I relaxed that I realized something. Drake had called me his wife.

  In all the terror and fear there was a ray of sunshine.

  We reached the airport with three hours to spare. The driver helped us to unpack and left us at the entrance. I staggered in beside Drake and we found a bench. I leaned back on the wall and closed my eyes, desperately weary.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I whispered at length. “I'm fine.”

  “Want to have coffee or something?”

  I looked sideways at him. “Yes, please,” I said.

  We found a seat at one of the many cafés and ordered cappuccinos. While we drank we discussed our plans.

  “It's just as well there was a direct flight,” Drake said, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Mm,” I nodded. “Much better.”

  “Strange,” he said, stirring the coffee absently. “This time tomorrow, we'll be in London.”

  “Weird,” I nodded. “Really weird.”

  “Like a dream,” he murmured.

  Under the table, his knee bumped mine and I smiled, the contact giving me reassurance. We stayed like that. I drank some coffee – it was good: warm and sweet. “What'll we do?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I contacted Aunt Jo. She'll come and fetch us and take us to her place. She lives just outside London.”

  “Oh,” I murmured. “Wow. Fancy.”

  He chuckled. “Not sure about fancy, dear. But we'll do our best.”

  I felt a tingle in my tummy that had nothing to do with the nagging ache of nausea. It was exciting.

  “You've visited her before?” I asked, taking another sip of my coffee.

  “No,” he said. “She was at our house when I was a boy, once or twice. But I've never traveled to the UK before.”

  “Wow.”

  I hadn't either. Come to think of it, I'd never left the States before. This was a real adventure. And I was so pleased to have him to share it.

  As we sat there together, I saw him look over my shoulder, eyes narrowing.

  “Come on,” he said abruptly. “We should go.”

  “What?” I frowned. I turned around. No. It can't be!

  But it was. The guy from the car-park. He was wearing a different-colored coat, but he had the same jeans and sunglasses, the same build. And he was coming over. I stood and Drake flagged down the waiter, passing him ten dollars.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Gotta leave now.”

  I lifted my suitcase and he lifted his and we ran through the crowds.

  “Have we lost him?” I panted as we skidded to a halt outside a shop selling tights and other accessories.

  “I think so,” Drake said, scanning the crowd. “We'll duck in here quickly and then head back to the gates. After we're through there we're safe.

  I nodded. I felt my heart thump in my chest. If the guy had seen us, was it possible for him to talk to the security people? Somehow stop us from going through? What if he had?

  “I...” I turned to Drake, who smiled down at me.

  “It's okay,” he said gently. “We'll just duck in here and hide behind the stands, and then when we've counted to fifty we'll head out and find out gate again.”

  “What if he knows? What if he's waiting?”

  “He won't know,” Drake said confidently. “I didn't tell anyone which flight we're on. And I booked it from my phone. I don't know how anyone'd find out before it's too late.”

  I swallowed hard. “I hope so.”

  “I'm sure so.”

  We slipped into the shop and pretended to be fascinated by the compression stockings. I was, actually – they'd probably be a great help on the overnight flight. I raised a brow at Drake.

  “You want some?”

  “They're supposed to regulate blood-pressure,” I said with a frown. “It might help me to stop feeling like I'm gonna pass out.” I chuckled shakily. He nodded.

  “Okay. Size medium?” he asked.

  “How did you know?” I said as he reached for a pack of the stockings.

  “Would you believe me that I checked?” He smiled.

  “You did?” I was giggling now, unable to help it.

  “Sure I did,” he said. “These things help when buying presents.”

  “I don't believe you sometimes,” I said, shaking my head. “All this and thoughtful too.”

  It was his turn to blush. “You're sweet,” he murmured.

  “I'm truthful.”

  He went over to buy the stockings and then we were weaving our way through the crowd, heading to our gate.

  “Boarding-passes please, sir?” the tired-looking security man said as we passed through to the counters. We handed them over. He seemed to spend an awfully long time and my heart almost stopped.

  “What is it?” I said.

  He smiled blandly. “Just checking,” he said. He handed me my boarding-pass and passport back, then, a heart-stopping second after, he gave Drake his.

  “Make sure you've removed all electronic devices, liquids, your boots, belt, coat...”
/>
  I listened to the litany as I undressed mechanically, taking off my outerwear and boots and sending them off through the scanner. Drake was behind me. As I walked through the gate I felt my heart in my mouth.

  Come on, I thought. Please. Drake. Any minute now, I imagined the sunglasses-guy coming up to the gates, stopping the proceedings. Demanding Drake and I were arrested, or somehow preventing us from flying.

  “Come through please, sir,” the attendant said at the gate.

  He walked through without incident. We were on the other side.

  I felt my heart lift and collected my things off the counter at the end, sliding stockinged feet into my boots. My heart was soaring and I felt quite giddy. We made it.

  Arm in arm, laughing a little hysterically, we headed off to find our boarding gate. We had made it.

  We could leave.

  We were going to London.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Drake

  We sat down on the plane side-by side. I still couldn't quite believe it. I looked at Ainsley and she looked at me. We were wired, out grins sharp with adrenaline.

  We fastened our seat-belts and sat there, our hands linked on the removable arm-rest, knees touching.

  “I'm so excited,” Ainsley whispered.

  I nodded. “Me, too.”

  Now that we'd made it onto the plane, my tension was starting to dissolve. I still wouldn't feel entirely relieved until we were in the air, but all the same, this was something.

  “Please pay attention while we show you the safety features of this Boeing seven-four-seven aircraft,” the flight-attendant began. I listened with half an ear, my mind racing through the thousand other things that were occupying my thoughts.

  Ainsley had a glossy magazine on her knee, the airline courtesy magazine. I watched the pictures – beaches in Spain, mountains in France, piazzas in Italy. I tried not to worry.

  Two things still bothered me. Firstly, Ainsley's sickness. Secondly, the future. Besides all our own considerations – where to stay, what to do – there was the additional worry of the more-distant future. What would we do in six months?

  “...sit back, relax and enjoy the flight,” the attendant was chanting out. I nodded.

  Sounds like good advice.

  I looked across at Ainsley and she looked up at me. Her brown eyes were shining and I resisted the temptation to cover those sweet lips with my own hard, hungry ones.

  “Ready?” she whispered.

  “Uh huh.”

  We held hands as the plane threw itself down the track and then hurtled up, up, into the sky. As Miami dropped away below us and the sky, blue and shining, swallowed us in, I felt myself finally start to relax.

  “We're off,” I said.

  “Uh huh.”

  Ainsley grinned at me, her fingers gripping over mine.

  We chatted for a bit but I could see her eyelids drooping. When she fell asleep I sat looking down at her. I hoped she was okay. All this stress had been too much for her.

  I supposed I was a complete asshole, descending into her life and endangering it, then hauling her off to another country where she'd never been and knew no-one.

  All the same, I couldn't help but be excited.

  I must have fallen asleep too, because when I woke up it was dark and the air-hostess was coming round with dinner.

  “I feel a bit queasy,” Ainsley murmured as she took a tray.

  “You're okay?” I asked, frowning. “Should I call someone, or..?”

  “I'm okay,” she demurred. “Just this same thing that's been bothering me the last two days. Silly, really. Must be tension.”

  “Mm,” I nodded. “Think the stockings will help?” I asked with a teasing smile.

  “I am about to find out,” she said. “I'll change into them after dinner.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  ***

  I changed my stockings and I had to admit the effects seemed beneficial. My head started throbbing a bit less. My tummy had settled a bit too. It must be nerves.

  All the same, I was starting to wonder what exactly was wrong with me.

  I sat next to Drake and we chatted for a bit and then he started to drop off for a while. I closed my eyes but my mind was too busy for sleep.

  I was nervous. I was excited. A part of me was a bit preoccupied with my own ill-health. Food-poisoning? Maybe.

  I closed my eyes and let sleep descend over me.

  I woke up with the loud-speaker announcement.

  “In twenty minutes we will begin our descent. Conditions on the ground are eight degrees and rainy.”

  I stifled a smile.

  “Rainy?” Drake said, giving me a sleepy grin. I breathed in the warm, manly scent of him, made stronger by a night sleeping in clothes.

  I nodded. “It is the UK.”

  He chuckled. “As I thought.”

  I was excited and restless and took the last call for the toilets as an opportunity to stretch my legs. As I stood the world blanked out and I sat down heavily, a pain sawing through my stomach. I groaned and held my belly. When I opened my eyes, Drake was looking at me.

  “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I murmured dizzily. “I'm fine. I guess I don't fly well, or something.”

  I wobbled down the aisle and found the bathroom.

  I managed not to be sick, which was quite impressive given that we were also approaching turbulence, and then headed back to my seat. Each little bump and wobble lanced through me and made me want to throw up. I held onto Drake's hand and groaned aloud.

  Then we were landing.

  The plane smacked down and hurtled down the runway and then came to an abrupt halt. I looked at Drake. He looked at me.

  We were in the UK.

  Drake helped me off the plane, so gently that I almost protested.

  “I'm not glass,” I grinned at him, kissing his hair fondly.

  “No, but you are precious,” he murmured into my hair. “And you're not well.”

  I nodded. “I sometimes wonder if...” I shook my head. “No. That's stupid.”

  “No...what?” he asked. “Nothing's stupid, sweetie.”

  I shook my head again. “I...” I wondered whether I should tell him about what had happened that morning on the way to work. Trust. “I just wonder if someone hasn't done something.”

  “Done something?”

  We walked onto the bus and it was too loud in there to say anything, so by the time we could talk we were getting off into the enormous, crowded space that was Heathrow airport.

  Maybe he's forgotten. Then I don't need to tell him.

  “Sweetie?” he asked solicitously. “What's wrong? You had something you were telling me. Remember...?”

  I sighed. “It's stupid, But still. When I went to work on Friday morning, I was waiting for the bus and...and this guy came over. He asked me for directions and I told him and we were chatting. He thanked me for the help and gave me one of the donuts he had with him. I was hungry so I... I ate it,” I admitted.

  “That's fine,” Drake said with a frown. We were waiting at baggage claim now and I looked away, watching the conveyer with the luggage.

  “No,” I said in a small voice. “It's not. What if...what if it was him? It looked like him.”

  “Him?” Drake frowned. “You mean...”

  “Yes,” I said as his face fell, making the same pattern of horror that I was starting to feel inside me. “What if I've been poisoned?”

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was pale.

  “We'll see a doctor as soon as we can,” he promised. “This isn't going to happen. It can't happen.”

  I smiled at him gently. He looked so worried. “It's gonna be okay,” I whispered.

  He smiled, a desperate grin. “I hope so.”

  We collected our luggage and headed out though passport control. A very efficient Sikh man stamped our passports and then we were walking out into the arrivals lounge. We had made it.<
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  We were in the UK.

  I only prayed that I would stay alive long enough to enjoy it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Drake

  I carried our bags across the lounge, looking vainly for my aunt. She'd sent a message saying she'd be there to fetch us. My heart was thumping in my chest, a new worry taking off inside me. What was happening to Ainsley? Was she dying?

  I couldn't believe that. I couldn't make myself believe that. No one would be that cruel, that inhumane.

  I spotted a woman of around my mom's age – late sixties, early seventies – standing at the back of the crowd. She had a fluffy cardigan and smart tan-colored slacks and a big scarf. She also had glasses and a mass of curly red hair. I remembered that from when I was ten years old.

  “Aunt Jay?”

  Her face split with a grin. “Oh, my goodness me! It's you!” She stared at me. Then she hugged me to her warm body. She smelled of powder and rose perfume and I felt strangely comforted by her presence. She had a safe presence, something like a mother. It made me feel assured.