It was Hunter who’d lied to her. Hunter who’d betrayed her. Hunter who, all along, had been incapable of caring for anyone as much as he cared for his own ambitions.
In this moment, she almost hated him. And as she stared into his hazel eyes, seeing the devastation there but not caring how sorry he thought he was, she knew there was only one thing that could have given him the power to hurt her so much.
She was in love with him.
On some level, she must have known it already. It seemed glaringly obvious now, and it must have been obvious to him, too.
Of course it was. Hunter had been with lots of women. He knew when one was in love with him.
Had he felt sorry for her? Was he feeling sorry for her right now?
God, what a pathetic fool I am.
Her mother had been right all along. If this was the real world, she wasn’t ready for it.
The sound of gravel crunching caught her attention. “Damn it, someone’s home. I can’t face Dean or Val right now.”
She surged to her feet and went toward the stairs, intending to go up and lock herself in her room for a while. But when she glanced through the screen door, she didn’t see Dean or Val’s car in the driveway.
She saw a long black limousine.
She froze. “It’s my mother.”
Seconds later, Hunter was standing beside her. “What the hell is she doing here?”
It took Airin only a moment to figure out exactly what Dira was doing here. “It makes perfect sense, actually. It’s just the next step in her plan. Now that she’s set off this explosion, she’s here to pick up the pieces. To take me back home.”
A minute ago, she’d told herself that her mother had been right all along. That she wasn’t ready for the real world.
Well, here was her chance to admit defeat. To put the last six weeks behind her and go home with Dira.
She took a deep breath. “Fuck that. Fuck both of you, in fact. I’m going out the back door, and neither one of you had better follow me.”
Two hours later, she was doing her best to get drunk.
She’d taken the number twelve bus down to Leilani’s in Waikiki. Kaleo was behind the bar, and she was on her second Blue Hawaii.
“Why so blue, Snow White?” he asked during a lull, resting his forearms on the bar.
“A color pun,” she said, stirring the ice in her drink. “I see what you did there.”
“I’ve got more where that came from. Trouble in paradise?”
“A Hawaii pun.”
“Yep. So what’s the story, gorgeous? Some man done you wrong?”
She thought about waking up with Hunter that morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d looked at her like she was every goddess he’d ever dreamed of, and he’d kissed her with so much passion and sweetness she felt transformed into the woman he saw in her.
Beautiful. Strong. Brave.
That part of it couldn’t have been a lie. Could it?
No. Hunter had lied to her about Dira, but he hadn’t lied about everything. She believed he felt something for her. Maybe not as much as she felt for him, but as much as he was capable of.
It was just that he loved himself more.
No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t himself he loved, not exactly. It was his dream of going into space. That would always come first.
Well, why not? A love affair was a small, unimportant thing when you put it up against the first manned mission to Mars. That was future-of-humanity stuff.
She’d told him in California that she didn’t want to get in the way of his goals and his dreams. And boy, she sure hadn’t.
What was wrong with her Blue Hawaii? The alcohol was supposed to dull the pain in her heart. That’s why she’d ordered it.
But it wasn’t working.
“Could I have something stronger? A shot of whiskey, maybe?”
“Are you sure you—” Kaleo noticed someone over her shoulder and straightened up. “What can I get you, ma’am?”
A familiar voice spoke behind her. “I’ll have what my daughter is having.”
Two hours ago, she might have yelled at Dira if they’d come face-to-face. But now she just looked up, met her mother’s eyes for a moment, and nodded toward the stool next to hers.
Dira took the seat and watched Kaleo as he poured a variety of liquids into a glass.
“It’s blue,” she said.
Airin didn’t bother confirming that observation. “How did you find me?”
Her mother looked at her. “You’re in my Phone Finder network. It identified this general vicinity, and Hunter figured out where you’d gone.”
“You used a GPS tracker on me.”
“I’ll take you out of the network. I promise. After tonight, I’ll never be able to find you again . . . unless you want me to.”
Kaleo placed a cocktail napkin on the bar and set down Dira’s Blue Hawaii. She leaned forward and tasted it.
“It’s good.” She took another sip. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever had a drink together.”
Airin kept her eyes on her own glass. “You didn’t exactly encourage alcohol in my life. Not even on my twenty-first birthday.”
“No. I guess I didn’t.” A beat went by, and then Dira went on. “I had a long talk with your boyfriend. He spoke to me like no one else has dared to for years.” She smiled grimly. “He read me the riot act for sending you that contract. And for a lot of other things.”
Airin shook her head. “He’s not my boyfriend. He is, however, your employee.”
“Not anymore.”
“You fired him already? That was fast.”
“I didn’t fire him. He quit.”
Airin’s head jerked around. “What?”
“He quit. He turned down my offer.”
“But . . . that doesn’t make any sense. I read the contract you sent. You offered him the one thing he wants most in the world—a guaranteed spot on the first manned mission to Mars. He already did what you asked him to do. Why would he reject the deal now?”
Her mother was quiet for a moment, stirring her drink. Then: “This wasn’t even the first time he quit DelAres. The first time was two weeks ago.”
Now she was really confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Hunter emailed me when the two of you were in California. He said you’d done well on the parabolic flight, and then he said he was ending our arrangement. He didn’t give a reason, but he told me he understood he was giving up his spot on the DelAres crew.”
In California. So after they became a couple, he’d cut ties with Dira. Only . . . he hadn’t. Not really.
“But then why did you send a contract? Why did he—”
“Because I told him the job was still his if he wanted it. He’d already done what I’d asked him.”
“Spied on me, you mean.”
Her mother was frowning down at her Blue Hawaii. “I want you to understand why I did what I did.”
“I know why,” Airin said, her voice flat. “You couldn’t stand the idea that I wanted to make a life for myself away from you.”
“No.” Dira paused. “Well, yes. There’s some truth to that. But it isn’t that I don’t want good things for you, or that I—”
“It’s just that you want to decide what’s good for me and what isn’t. You don’t trust me to make those decisions for myself.”
There was another silence, longer this time.
“Maybe I didn’t trust you in the beginning,” Dira said finally. “But I do now.”
“Really?” Airin asked skeptically. “And what brought about this miraculous change of heart?”
“You did. But I didn’t realize it until I came here, and Hunter made me see it.” She turned to face her daughter. “He made me see you, Airin. How strong you are . . . how strong you’ve always been. How brave, how passionate, how committed. And I realized something I’m not proud of.” Her voice faltered, and she took a quick breath. “It’s your strength that made me so
afraid. Because your father was strong, too. He was strong and brave and passionate and committed . . . and those are the very qualities that got him killed.”
Airin had been twelve years old when her father died. Afterward, all her mother had shown publicly—and privately—was her pride in her husband and his service to his country. She’d told Airin she’d be there if her daughter needed to talk about her grief, but it had never once occurred to Airin to do that.
She remembered the nights she’d cried alone in her room, rocking back and forth with an old teddy bear her father had given her. Now, for the first time, she wondered if her mother had suffered that same lonely agony.
“We didn’t help each other after he died,” she said softly. “I wish we had.”
Dira’s eyes were bright. “I told myself I had to be strong for you, because of your heart condition. But the truth is, I was afraid. I was afraid if I let you or anyone see how I was really feeling, the grief would take over my life.”
Airin nodded. “I understand that. But do you remember what Dad said once, about dying? He said it’s not the worst thing that can happen to a person. The worst thing is not living a courageous life.”
Dira smiled crookedly. “That’s the kind of thing heroes say. But they’re not the ones who get left behind.” She reached out and put a hand on Airin’s arm. “I couldn’t bear to think that you might leave me, too. Even after the doctors said you were fully recovered, I just . . . wanted to hang on to you.” Her lower lip trembled. “I know I don’t say things out loud like your father did. I’m not expressive like he was. But you have to know I love you every bit as much. I love you more than any mother has ever loved her daughter. I love you more than anything in the world.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I do know that. And I love you, too, Mom.”
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done wrong. I’m sorry I asked Hunter to do what he did. But, Airin—I want you to know—Hunter wasn’t spying on you. He told me how your ribs were healing, how you seemed to be feeling, and about the work you were doing with Val. Nothing private. Only what you might have told me yourself if you—”
“If I’d wanted to tell you? But that’s just the point, Mom. I wanted to be the one to set the boundaries between us.”
“I know. And I know I violated those boundaries.”
“Yes, you did. And Hunter helped you do it.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment. “I know that, too. But if it makes you feel any better, he paid a big price. He lost you, and he lost his spot on the DelAres mission. Twice.”
“But after the first time, you talked him into staying. Why?”
“Because I wanted him on my crew. I still do. I’ve reviewed his stats and his profile, and I’ve talked to the NASA team about him. He’s the best man for the job. So I told him the spot was still his if he wanted it, and he accepted. But when he started talking about the biosphere project and couples in space, I realized that what he really wanted, the future he wanted to build, was for the two of you to go into space together.”
He’d talked to her about couples in space, too. Was that really what he’d been hoping for? A future where the two of them could be part of the DelAres mission to Mars?
“That’s when I decided to use our deal against him. Against both of you.” Dira shook her head. “I was desperate. You seemed to be getting farther and farther away from me, and when I realized you and Hunter were together, I was afraid you might leave for good. I thought . . . if you and Hunter broke up . . . that you might come home.” She sighed. “All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe. And I thought that keeping you with me was the best way to do it.”
“But I can’t stay with you forever,” Airin said gently. “At some point I have to grow up.”
Dira sighed again. “So I’ve heard. You can thank Hunter for passing along that message loud and clear. He actually yelled at me.”
She tried to imagine Hunter—or anyone—yelling at her mother.
“I still don’t understand why he would give up his dream. If you were still willing to offer him a place on the crew, why would he—”
“Because of you.”
“But—”
“When Hunter told me he was turning down the offer to join DelAres, he said he had a condition.”
“A condition?”
“He told me to give his place to you. He said you’re a born astronaut and that you deserve it more than he does. He sacrificed his chance to be first on Mars for you, Airin.”
Hunter had given up his dream—and tried to make hers come true instead.
She remembered what Hunter had said after the parabolic flight. I guess the secret is to go with someone you care about more than yourself.
Dira continued. “Of course the terms of Hunter’s contract don’t actually allow for that kind of swap. A mission to Mars isn’t a movie ticket, for goodness’ sake. He can make all the suggestions he likes, but I don’t have to accept them.”
She wanted to yell at Hunter for making the deal with her mother in the first place, and she wanted to thank him for what he’d tried to do for her. Most of all, she wanted to tell him what she’d figured out back at the house.
She loved him.
But before she could do any of that, she had to think about the future.
Their future.
She met her mother’s eyes. “You don’t have to accept Hunter’s suggestion. But what do you think about it?”
“I think I hate it more than any idea I’ve ever heard.” She took a deep breath. “My God, I spent ten years fighting to keep you alive. And now that you’ve finally won that battle, you want to go to Mars? Do you know how hostile it is to human life?”
“So is Earth—at least in my experience.”
Dira brushed that aside. “What you went through is an entirely different thing. Human beings are fragile creatures who have adapted very successfully to this planet. We don’t know if we can survive on a world we’re not made for.”
“People thought the sound barrier would kill the pilot who tried to break it. We thought just being in space, being weightless, might kill us.”
“Sometimes it does. You know all the ways space travel can kill you. Solar radiation. Asphyxiation. A reentry like the one that killed the Columbia crew. An explosion like the one that killed the Challenger crew.”
“My own body tried to kill me for ten years.”
Dira slapped her palm on the bar. “It’s not. The same. Thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not designed for space. We’re not meant to be there. Long hauls in zero-g decimate bone mass. Your heart doesn’t have to work as hard, and it becomes less effective. What happens when you’re back under a gravitational load?”
“You get stronger again. You survive. What else is there to do?” She paused. “And what about a one-way trip? The first Mars settlers, the ones who go there to live? My heart and my bones wouldn’t have as much adjusting to do at one-third gravity.”
Dira looked at her. “You really want to get away from me, don’t you?”
For the first time in hours, Airin laughed.
“It’s not that, Mom. Really. I just think some people are hardwired to want to go somewhere. To travel.” She paused. “People like me and Hunter.”
“So what’s wrong with Paris or Tokyo? Why do you have to travel a hundred and forty million miles when it’s so damned dangerous?”
She tried to find the right words to answer. “It’s just . . . I don’t believe the highest expression of our humanity is to protect our own existence. We don’t get to opt out of dying, you know. All we can do is figure out what makes us feel alive.” She thought for a moment. “You know what Bonnie Dunbar said once? That she’d trained her whole life to go into space, and if she died on a Mars mission, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. You know what Valentina Tereshkova said when they asked her about Mars? She was in her seventies, and she told an interviewer, ‘I am ready to fly without coming b
ack.’”
There was a long silence. When Dira spoke, there was no hint of the scientist in her voice.
Only the mother.
“You may be ready to go,” she said, her voice trembling, “but I’m not ready to lose you.”
“Oh, Mom.” Airin put an arm around her shoulders. “Do you remember what Dad used to say? Children are lost from the beginning. Because they belong to the future, a place we can imagine but never see.”
Dira’s eyes were bright with tears. “God, you’re so much like him.”
“I’m like you, too.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I’m going to be so good at what I do. And just think. If I join DelAres, we’ll be doing it together.” She picked up her drink. “How about a toast? To the cathedral we’re going to build.”
They clinked glasses, but Dira looked confused. “Cathedral?”
“Another thing Dad used to talk about. He said medieval cathedrals were a lot like the modern space program. Because it took generations to build them and faith in things you can’t see.”
Dira sighed. “I should hire you to do PR instead of the actual mission.”
Airin tilted her head to the side. “Does that mean you’re considering hiring me as an astronaut?”
“Maybe. If you pass the selection tests. And if your skills meet our needs.”
Airin started to smile. “That sounds fair.”
Her mother sighed again. “I can’t believe I—” She broke off suddenly and gasped.
“What is it?” Airin asked, alarmed.
Dira jumped to her feet and pointed with a shaky finger at the wood below the bar.
“Look at that thing. My God, it must be four inches long.”
Airin glanced down.
“Don’t worry,” she said, sliding off her bar stool. “It’s just a Periplaneta americana.”
“A what?”
“American cockroach. They grow ’em big in Hawaii.”
She reached out and grabbed it in her bare hand, careful not to kill it. Then she walked it over to the door and tossed it out into the night air, where it flew away with a whir of insect wings.
“Do you have any hand sanitizer?” she asked as she came back.
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