Page 52

Chapter Fifty-One

Shantal

I t’s the day before Darien is due to fly out for the short break in Rio, and we stand in the airport.

We’ve beaten the rest of the team here, sneaked out of the hotel early in the morning so I can catch my flight. I’ll be on the next plane to London.

I struggle to meet Darien’s eye when we reach the security checkpoint. I take in every bit of these surroundings, of this humid airport in Vegas that will be the last place I see him. I take in Darien, his big brown eyes holding back tears, his strong arms, the tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeves and the collar of his T-shirt, stories to which new chapters, new lines will be added. It strikes me suddenly that if this visit home goes the way I think it’s going to go, I might never see those new stories. This is the end of the line, and I am nowhere near ready to part ways.

‘Be strong, Shanni,’ he whispers, brushing a hair from my face.

A sob leaves my mouth before I can control it, but Darien presses his lips to mine, his eyes squeezed tight, and I close mine in the same way. I want to live in this moment for ever, fabricate a reality where we stay like this, together.

‘You’re going to thrive, no matter what happens.’ He is an inch from me, and his words float quietly on shallow breaths that kiss my cheeks. ‘You’ll thrive, you’ll be strong, you’ll figure things out. And … and if you don’t,’ he takes a deep breath, ‘… if you don’t come back, don’t worry. It’s okay because you’re gonna have a kick-ass job at the very top of the pyramid, a happy family, maybe a kid as mean as you, as awesome as you are, and maybe I’ll finally have that WDC title or something, and I’ll see you again then. Maybe a lot of stuff will have changed, Shanni. We’re gonna be old and tired and all of that, we’re gonna be grown-up, but what won’t change a bit is how proud I will be of you. I’m gonna be so proud of you and I’m still going to think of you. All my life, Shanni, all my life.’

I’m a sobbing mess, but I nod through it, trying to convince myself of what he seems so certain. That our stories are bound together, that we were meant to collide that day at the Lapa Arches, with my fake map and his fake name. He brushes all the tears away, takes my hands, and squeezes them tight as he presses his forehead to mine.

We stay like this for a minute, then more. ‘I’m yours,’ he mouths. ‘No matter what. No matter how far you are. I’ll wait around.’

I swallow hard and manage a ‘yes’. The past few months are burned into my soul. I know that I am no different: that I’ll also be his, no matter how far away he is.

When we pull away, Darien takes my hand, my right, and holds it close to him. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bracelet that shimmers so gold it’s almost yellow, a simple chain with two tiny macaws linked in the centre, beaks making a heart shape, and he clasps it around my wrist.

‘My mom’s.’ His voice is a quiet caress that just glances past my cheek as his fingers brush mine one last time.

I don’t require any explanation as I take in the bird on the bracelet, the macaws. The same as the ones on his helmet. I remember what Joel and Raya had been bickering about way back in January, before I’d left for Rio.

Macaws are resilient.

As much as they might endure, they always summon strength.

I’ve always envied how hard Darien Cardoso-Magalh?es dreams. But as I look down at the bracelet he’s given me, something tears at the strings of my heart. He said he’ll wait. But I worry I will never be able to come back, never see him again. I worry he’ll dream so hard that reality will become disappointing.

Before I can look into Darien’s eyes and feel regret so deep it hooks onto my feet and holds me in my place, I grab my bag and turn away, hoping he knows that I am doing this for both of us, that a long goodbye would screw us both over. I walk towards the security checkpoint, tears falling down my face as I do and, as much as I tell myself I shouldn’t, I turn and glance back at him.

I’ve never seen him cry this way. The tears form tracks that slide down his cheeks, mirroring mine. He lifts a hand in a little wave, and it feels like I’ve just been kicked in the chest. He’s crushing me, but I purse my lips, shut out the emotion, and wave back as I head for the gate, for the line that separates the dream I want to live in, and the reality I have no choice but to face.