“You do this now? We got one foot on a plane and this is what you come up with?”
The world got quiet, and he was at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Nothing existed but the hard words between us.
“Just take her,” I growled. “She’ll be fine. She’ll get used to it without me. I’m not necessary here—”
“No, you take her. The two of you wait for me. I’m sorry, teacup. You’re not turning your back on us. Maybe she’ll be all right without you, but I won’t. We’re smack-dab in the middle of something good, and I’m not gonna let you go so easy. I fucked up too much already. I fucked up when I denied her the first time, and I fucked up not telling you my trouble. I fucked up taking your phone. I fucked up trying to hide the newspapers. I’m going to fuck up again. I know I am. And I’m asking you to stay with me and let me fuck up. Let me try again and again. There’s no one else I want to fuck up with. There’s no one else I want to apologize to. There’s no one else I want to be better for. It’s you. I’m going to be better for you, and if you leave I’m afraid I’ll never have a reason to stop being a fuckup.”
“Nicole has to be your reason to stop.”
“She is, I just . . .” Hands out, as if handing me an explanation. “I’m afraid. With her I’m afraid I’m going to screw up. I’m not afraid with you. I can do it with you. You make it possible.”
In his outstretched hands was my power. I could accept it or deny it. I could trust him and myself. Trust that I had the power to build something with him that I’d always wanted. A family of my own.
Or I could do what I’d always done. Run from the difficulty. The vulnerability and discomfort and stay on the outside looking in. I was safe there, but if I was being honest with myself, I was also miserable.
“I know I’m a shithead,” he said. “But this shithead loves you.”
He did. He loved me.
I had a physical reaction. My heart expanded to fit the room. It grew to fit a feeling of worthiness and belonging. He loved me and he knew it.
His love changed nothing. I loved him and I knew it, but I wouldn’t be able to fit myself into his life or understand the lies he’d told. And my heart shrunk back down, folding into itself like a bird tucking its wings in after a short flight.
“I love you,” I said. I didn’t have to say it. I shouldn’t have, because it was irrelevant. “But I don’t think that’s enough.”
He was still in the tunnel. The rest of the world, the airport, the VIP lounge had fallen away. So when Erma’s voice cut through the tunnel, I was startled.
“Where’s Nicole?” she asked.
Brad’s attention snapped away to his mother, then around the room.
“What do you mean?”
“She was right here looking at you. Then I went to put the napkin in the garbage and—”
“Shit.” He scanned the room from window to window, and I did too, checking behind the buffet, around the donuts, at the floor where a trail of crumbs and sprinkles ended a foot away from where Brad and I had been standing.
“Not here,” I said.
“Nicole!” he called. Everyone looked, but no little girl came.
“They have to close the lounge,” I said, pointing to the concierge. “Now.”
Brad ran to him. I pointed to Erma. “Check the bathrooms.”
“Okay.” She went to the bathrooms, and I went through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
She was probably fine.
But Brad was famous and wealthy. He was the target of crazy people for simply existing. His security team didn’t come to Arkansas with us because he felt safe, but that didn’t mean word of his location didn’t get out. The right opportunity with the wrong person nearby could spell disaster.
“Did a little girl come through here?” I shouted to the kitchen staff. The banging of pots and shouting of staff ground to a halt. I didn’t wait for an answer. They’d let me know if they saw anything. I scanned the floor, paced to the back exit. It was open. There were elevators. A stairway with an alarm. Huge hampers with linens.
She could be in a hamper or two stories below. Shit shit shit . . .
I upturned the hamper. It was too light to have a little girl under the tablecloths, but I checked anyway.
“Hey!” A male voice from down the hall.
I stood and looked. Security.
“Did you close the lounge?”
He got close enough to see me. “You’re the nanny?”
“Yes.”
“It’s on lockdown. The elevators are shut. Please join your party in the lounge.”
“There are low cabinets in the kitchen. She might be hiding in one of them.”
He held one hand out to me and with the other he opened the door back to the kitchen. “Please join your party, miss.”
I walked fast through the kitchen, taking the long way in case she was there, and entered the lounge where all the first-class passengers were now standing, looking distressed.
I stood between Brad and his mother, catching another security guy with gray hair as he put on his most authoritative tone.
“We cannot lock down the entire airport,” he said. “The way we do it is—”
“Fuck your concentric circles,” Brad said.
“I know this is stressful, but—”
“You need to lock it from the outside in, not the—”
“No child has been lost on my watch, sir. I promise you. This happens more often than you think.”
His radio hissed and burped. He held up his finger and excused himself to take the call.
“This is my fault,” I said. “It’s my job to watch her.”
“Let’s not get into that.” He spoke to me, but his eyes were all over the room, as if he was looking for a dropped cuff link. I couldn’t blame him. My attention was on every nook and cranny a little girl could fit inside.
“We were talking about our relationship,” I said, reaching under the buffet and opening the sliding doors. No kid. “What I should have been doing was watching Nicole.”
“Your relationship with me is important to her.”
“Do you think she heard us?”
“I’m sure of it.” He turned to me and took my chin in his hand to get me to look at him. I felt safe and solid when I had his attention. “She’s not in the lounge.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know how I know. But we need more eyes out there.” He broke our gaze. “Mom.” He waved her over.
“I think we should pray,” she said.
“Yeah,” Brad said. “Do that. We’re gonna look in the terminal.”
“The lounge is locked.”
“Let’s pray then.” He grabbed the gray-haired security guard, who had just clipped his little radio back to his belt. “My mother needs to get to the chapel. She needs to say a prayer we find her.”
“Yes, sir. Over there are people leaving to board their planes. You can get out that way.”