Page 28 of Wandering Wild
I’m running late.
I was meant to be at work twenty minutes ago, but Jerry is taking pains to make up for his distance over the last few months, and that meant he wanted us to enjoy a home-cooked breakfast together this morning. Since he can’t boil water without setting the house on fire, I had to step in to save us both from his good intentions, which delayed my preparation for The Little Mermaid –themed birthday party I’m supervising today, and left me rushing around last-minute to get my costume ready.
Sandy so owes me for taking this shift, since the last thing I want to be doing right now is driving through our sleepy coastal town dressed as Sebastian the crab, complete with googly eyes, antennae, and pincers. If I had my choice, I’d be curled up in bed and crying my heart out—which, outside of making breakfast, is all I’ve done since we flew home from Sydney yesterday.
It’s ridiculous that I miss Zander so much, when a week ago, I didn’t even know him—and what I did know, or thought I knew, I despised. But I can’t deny what I’m feeling, or the depth of my pain knowing I’ll never see him again.
Ember stayed with me last night, holding me as I sobbed until I had no tears left, just like she did the night before in Katoomba. When I woke this morning, she was gone, but there was a note on my pillow saying she’ll see me at work later today. I hate that I’ve been such an emotional mess over the last two days, especially since I’m the one who pushed Zander away—and have regretted it ever since—but I also don’t know how to stop the ache that’s like a dagger buried in my chest.
While I might not feel like supervising this birthday, I’m grateful for the distraction it will provide. For three hours, I won’t have time to feel sorry for myself, since I’ll be too busy helping a bunch of mermaids and princes concoct gaudy ice-cream creations. If nothing else, it’ll offer a reprieve from my relentless heartache. Not even the exhilaration of having figured out what I want to do next in life has helped ease my pain—though at least it’s kept me from dwelling on the fact that I’m currently driving down Main Street dressed as a bright red crustacean. I always have to leave my dignity at the door on party days, but today is next-level commitment.
Upon arriving at Sandy’s Scoops and Sprinkles, I glance around the parking lot, relieved to find no trace of the paparazzi I feared would follow me home from Katoomba. I was certain they would hound me for days after the trip, begging for interviews and media appearances, but aside from a small group waiting at the hotel yesterday morning and another cluster at the Sydney airport, I’ve mostly been left alone. I can only assume that with Zander gone, they’ve already moved on to the next big scoop, and I’m immensely thankful for that—especially since it means there’s no one around to witness me in all my crabified glory as I struggle to get out of my car. The padded legs attached to my sides are particularly unruly, making me so frustrated that I almost tear them off.
When I’m finally free, I hurry to the front glass door, nearly tripping twice because of the cumbersome outfit. If I hadn’t felt so wretched this morning, I might have donned my much simpler seashell bikini and sequin skirt instead, but I didn’t feel up to wearing anything sparkly today. The kids, at least, will get a kick out of the crab costume—kids that I can see have already started arriving, since there are numerous Ariels and Prince Erics and Ursulas and King Tritons bouncing with excitement on the other side of the glass.
I take a moment to brace myself before entering, belatedly wondering why Ember’s car is here. I didn’t expect her to appear until after my shift, but it’s not unusual for her to hang out with Sandy while I’m looking after the children, so I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I take a breath and prepare to get through the next few hours without thinking about Zander, praying it will begin to feel easier after that. I know deep down that it will never fully stop hurting, and that I’ll always be haunted by my decision, wondering if we could have found a way for it to work despite his career commitments and my newfound wanderlust. But I also know I can’t live like that, forever chained by my regret, buried in doubts and crippled by what-ifs—nor could I have lived knowing he was on one side of the world, locked in studio after studio, while I was somewhere else entirely, our hearts entwined but our lives separated. That would destroy me, just as it would destroy him.
Then again, I could be wrong—he might have already moved on from our time together. His flight will be landing in LA sometime today, and he’ll go back to his life and—and?—
And forget about me.
God, that hurts. I almost buckle from the weight of it, and I press my clawed hand to my chest, fighting back tears, before I give myself a mental kick and pull myself together. I can return to sobbing once I get home; for now, I need to summon my mediocre acting skills and get through this party.
Despite my best efforts, it’s a struggle to paint a friendly smile on my face as I open the door and step into the familiar pink-and-cream-colored parlor. I immediately spot Sandy in front of the counter, talking to a group of young mermaids who are staring at the ice-creams behind the glass, pointing out their favorites. Seeing the twinkle in Sandy’s brown eyes as they share animatedly about all the flavors makes me realize with a pang of sadness that I’m going to miss this place when I leave. But I can’t chase my dreams while staying where I am—that’s not how dreams work.
“Miss Hart!” calls a familiar young girl who has been to numerous parties here since we started offering them. “Look at me—I’m Ariel!”
“So you are,” I say as she runs over with her friends, my smile not so forced now as I take in all their excited faces. I gesture to the silver fork tied around her neck. “I like your necklace.”
“It’s so I can brush my hair, just like Ariel does!” she says with unmitigated glee.
“Very practical,” I tell her, before clapping my clawed hands together. “Who’s ready to make some ice-cream?”
My ears ring with their shouts of “ME! ME! ME!” and “I AMMMM!” and I raise my arms for calm, before saying, “Into the party room, then.”
They squeal with delight and sprint off toward the rainbow-painted annex, while I start to follow at a much more human pace. But then Sandy clears their throat loudly and says, “Hold up a moment, cherub.”
I look at them in question, seeing the bright grin on their purple-glittered lips as they nod pointedly toward the corner of the parlor behind me. Puzzled, I turn around, then come to a jarring halt, unable to believe what I’m seeing.
Because Ember is seated at a table with Maddox and Summer, all three of them beaming at me. And standing next to them, leaning against the wall?—
Is Zander.
I gape at them, at him , certain this must be some kind of heartbroken fever dream and my alarm will wake me up any second now. But the longer I stare at them—at him —the more real they become.
It hits me that I’m not imagining this when Zander straightens and walks slowly toward me, meeting me in the middle of the now-empty parlor. I can hear the kids laughing in the next room, and I’m aware of Sandy still grinning hugely from the glass counter, but I have eyes only for Zander as he comes to a stop before me.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe, afraid one wrong blink will reveal this is a fantasy after all. “Why aren’t you on your way home?”
Zander cocks his head to the side, a smile quirking his lips. But his blue eyes are guarded. Afraid, even. Considering the last time he saw me was when I told him I didn’t want to see or speak to him again, before I literally ran away from him, I understand his hesitation—though it still breaks my heart into a thousand new pieces.
“Our flight was delayed until this morning,” he replies, not quite answering my question, since if that were the case, he’d be on it right now. “We were waiting at the airport for it, but then I got an email, and our plans... changed.”
He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and begins swiping at the screen. If I could summon any words beyond my shock at seeing him, I would be pleading for an explanation, but all I can do is wait, frozen in place, as he finds what he’s looking for.
When he glances up at me again, there’s a nervous look on his face, but he blows out a breath and squares his shoulders before meeting my eyes and saying, “I need you to know that I heard everything you said on Friday night, and if you truly believe our worlds are so different that we can’t be together, or if you don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you, then—then—” He stumbles slightly, before recovering, “Then I’ll respect that, and you’ll never hear from me again. But before you make that call, I have a proposition for you.”
He holds his phone out for me to take.
My hand is shaking as I reach for it, the claw covering my fingers making it difficult for me to get a good grip. At Zander’s urging, I glance down at the screen, noting the big CONFIDENTIAL warning at the top, frowning slightly as I wonder what it is I’m looking at.
But then I realize.
And my heart stops.
Before it starts again, beating double-time in my chest.
My eyes shoot up to Zander. The nervous look has returned to his face, only it’s much more amplified now.
“Is this—Is this—” My voice is little more than a croak.
“It’s my filming itinerary for Titan’s War ,” he tells me. “It’s all locked in.”
I read the document again, the words all but screaming at me through the screen.
Reykjavík.
Vatnajokull National Park.
Diamond Beach.
The Blue Lagoon.
Stokkur Geyser.
It’s a list of all the places I told Zander I wanted to travel to first, and seeing them, I realize?—
Titan’s War is being filmed in Iceland.
Tears start brimming in my eyes as I understand what this means, what Zander is asking me.
“I know there will be a million challenges ahead,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “I know this is only for a few months, and there’s no certainty beyond that. We could be right back to being two worlds apart. Or maybe—” He moves another step closer. “Maybe it’ll give us a chance to figure out how to make this work. To make us work.”
He’s right in front of me now, near enough that I can feel his body heat.
“I want you to come with me, Charlie,” he whispers. “I want to explore Iceland with you, and whatever comes after that. Because I think we’re worth fighting for.” His words are shaky now as he asks, with everything he’s feeling clear in his voice, “The question is, do you?”
My tears are falling steadily now, but I don’t wipe them away. I just hold his gaze, seeing his heart laid bare before me, seeing how much he wants this, wants me , as well as his fear that I’m going to say no. He doesn’t realize I spent the last two days wishing for this—wishing for a way we could be together and yet still follow our own paths. But now...
I truly must be dreaming.
And it’s the best dream I’ve ever had.
So I decide to embrace it, my voice husky with emotion as I say, “I guess I should ask for a rush order when I renew my passport.”
It takes him a moment to understand my reply, but when he does, his eyes widen, before a relieved, incredulous laugh leaves him, and the next second, I’m being swept up into his arms.
Ember, Maddox, and Summer are whooping from the corner, and Sandy is cheering from the front counter, with the kids peeking their heads out of the party room to see what’s going on. But all I can think about is Zander holding me—and this time, I don’t have to let him go.
Only, there’s one thing I want more than his arms around me—and that’s his lips on mine. So I pull back to make that happen, but he speaks again before I can follow through.
“I had a longer speech prepared,” he says, the joy on his face like pure sunshine. “Maddox and Summer helped me come up with it on the plane here, but once I saw you, every word fled my mind.”
I lean into him, feeling warmth spread through me at his admission, realizing I affect him as much as he does me.
But then he goes on, “Seriously, it was nearly impossible to keep a straight face and not ask what the hell you’re wearing. It’s a miracle I was able to focus at all.” He flicks one of my antennae. “Do you normally dress up like this? Because if so, I might need to?—”
I cut him off by tugging him close and ordering, “Just shut up and kiss me, Zander.”
He doesn’t need any further encouragement, his lips twitching with humor before they finally— finally —meet mine.
Our friends are hooting even louder now, as is Sandy, all over a chorus of “Eww, Miss Hart!” from the watching children.
But I don’t care, because I feel Zander’s mouth smiling against mine, and nothing else matters in our world, just that I’m in his arms, and he’s kissing me.
Our future may be uncertain, but I do know this:
We’re going to step into it, one day at a time.
Chasing our dreams.
Together.