“Would you like anything to drink while you wait?” Amber asks from behind me.
I shake my head. “No, thanks.”
I catch sight of pink hair, but it’s too bright.
Where are you, Taylor?
A thought crosses my mind. What if she was never coming here?
What if she was—
No. No, she is going back to Boston. I’m sure of it.
She already made her decision. Those were her last words to me. Doing this trip and then going back to Boston to die has always been her plan.
So, I’ll wait here until she shows up. And if she doesn’t, then I…I honestly don’t know.
“Sir…are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do? Call through to the other terminals in case she decided to take a different flight to America or maybe a connecting flight?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say distractedly, still scanning faces.
I don’t think for a minute that Taylor would take a connecting flight. She hates flying, so the idea of her having to get one flight, only to change to another…no, she wouldn’t do it.
The thought of her grumbling about it almost makes me smile.
“Okay, I’ll start making calls. Sir…Miss Shaw…she’s important to you?”
I glance back at Amber over my shoulder. “She’s all that’s important.”
She gives me a gentle, sad kind of smile.
I face back ahead and continue to search every face that comes into the airport, looking for the only face that matters.
She hasn’t shown.
Checkin closed thirty minutes ago. The flight to Boston is due to leave in fifteen minutes, and she hasn’t arrived.
I walked around the airport, looking for her, having Amber keep guard at the ticket desk, but nothing.
Taylor hasn’t shown. Or called.
I’ve tried calling her multiple times, and all I’ve gotten is her voicemail.
And, now, I’m scared. Because I have no clue where she is.
I was so sure this was where she was heading.
So, either she’s gone somewhere—somewhere I have no fucking clue about—and she’s still taking the flight home tomorrow…or she decided not to wait for the tumor to take her, but to take matters into her own hands.
My eyes close painfully on the thought.
No, she wouldn’t do that.
But then I didn’t think she’d ever slowly kill herself.
What if she’s been struck down with another headache or, worse, a seizure, and she’s hurt somewhere?
Fuck.
I can’t take any more of the not knowing. The waiting.
I don’t know what to do.
I get up out of the chair I finally sat in earlier when my legs were aching from standing and walking around. “I’m gonna head out. Thanks for your help, Amber.”
She gives me a sad look. “I’m sorry she didn’t show up.”
Not as sorry as I am.
“I’ll leave the flag in the system, and if she does turn up, I’ll let you know straightaway.”
“Thanks.” I push my hands into my pockets and start to walk away.
Then, I stop and turn back. “Amber?”
She looks up from her computer screen. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you on the phone earlier.”
She gives me a small smile. “It’s okay.”
I turn and walk out of the airport, desolation weighing heavily on my shoulders.
I walk up to my car and see a clamp on the wheel.
Pressing my lips together, I shut my eyes and heave a breath out through my nose. “Motherfucker.”
I don’t even have the will or energy to get pissed about it.
I’ll have to leave it. I’ll get Pam to sort it.
As I walk to the taxi stand, I fire off a text to Pam, letting her know that my car is clamped at Heathrow.
I get an immediate reply.
Pam: Will sort ASAP.
I reply.
Me: Thanks.
Then, I shove my phone back in my pocket.
Only a few people are ahead of me in the taxi line, so soon, I’m in a cab and giving the driver the address to my apartment building.
Letting out a sigh, I tip my head back on the seat and stare up at the ceiling of the cab, feeling more lost than I ever have in my life.
In the background, on the cab’s radio, Oasis’s “Don’t Go Away” is playing.
I swear, music is set to torture me nowadays.
I let out a laugh, but it’s not humorous. It’s pained. This fucking hurts more than anything has hurt before.
She’s gone.
She came into my life and made it the best it’s ever been. She made me fall in love with her, and now, she’s disappeared, and I don’t know where she is.
I have no clue if she’s even still ali—
Pressure quickly builds behind my eyes. Closing them, I press the heels of my hands to my eyes and then push my fingers into my hair as I take a deep breath.
I won’t think that way. I refuse to believe that she’d go through with it.
I have to have hope because it’s all I’ve got left.
I’ll just go back to the airport again tomorrow when I know she’s scheduled to fly, praying to God that she shows up.