Page 97 of The Cruiser
ChapterThirty-Four
Three hoursafter the debacle at Morgan’s apartment, I’m slouched in a chair in the departure lounge of Nice airport. Hair up. Sunglasses on. A sour taste in my mouth. I’ve paid far too much for a last-minute business class ticket but would slap down fifty grand if teleporting was an option. Morgan keeps texting, telling me his jet is on standby, begging to talk. To put an end to it, I finally text back.
VH: I’ve arranged a flight.
MdRC: Please call me. This is not what you think it is.
I hit DELETE and block his number. It’s childish, but I need to feel in control of something. It’s starting. The North American news feeds picked us up, and I’m scrolling through the commentary damage on Huffington Post when TQ calls.
It’s three a.m. his time.
“Hi.”
He hears it in my voice, clucking with sympathy. “Oh, sunshine. I was really, really hoping you had a doppelgänger.”
“What’s the destruction level? Honestly.”
“Nothing horrendous … yet. Although I just got back from clubbing and haven’t done a full scour. But before we get into that, can we talk about how Morganisn’t your husband?”
Shame rises in my heart, swift and all consuming. Of all people to keep in the dark. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
He gets the quick and dirty version, absorbing it all in absolute silence. “The fact you didn’t tell me is criminal, lady,” he finally says. “I don’t know what to say, other than I’m sorry. I’m crying on the inside.”
“I know. It just all happened so fast.”
As the perfect mournful denouement, a young Asian traveler starts to play Für Elise on the piano inside the terminal. Beautiful, but not the heart-lifting tune I need right now.
“Where are you?” TQ asks.
“At the Nice airport. I’m coming home.”
“What? Why?”
On the verge of blubbering, I take a deep breath. “I screwed up. Big time. Got taken for a ride.”
“Well, yes, I can see that.”
Leave it to TQ to find humor in the most devastating situation. Despite it all, I can still laugh. A good sign. “You are horrible! What I mean is, this whole trip…” I stop before the words spill out. I still don’t fully understand what happened and need time to comb through every conversation from the past two weeks before calling anything.
“If you need a minute,” TQ says, “breathe it out.”
“I’m good. The bottom line is, the shit is going to hit the fan. We need to be ready.”
He blows out a foreboding breath. “Copy that, boss.”
Over the loudspeaker, last call for my departing flight is announced. Travelers around me start to collect their bags.
“I gotta run, babes,” I say. “I’m in the air for the next seven hours. When I land at JFK, I’ll check back in. Keep everyone at bay until then, please. As best you can.”
“You want me to pick you up at LAX?”
“No, I’ll grab an Uber. Don’t tell anyone I’m coming home,” I warn. “The last thing I need is a swarm at the airport.”
“I hate to inform you, sunshine, there’s going to be swarms everywhere.” He yawns, tiredness leaking into his voice. “I should really get to bed. I’m going to need my wits about me.”
I can only blame myself for my loss of face, and now he’s tasked with helping me manage it. His tirelessness in keeping Vaughn and me afloat, always being there for us, makes the whole thing more shameful.
“I’m sorry, TQ. This is a major bad.”
