Page 9 of Take Me Back
All it took was a tremor through my hand for me to give an answer. I squeezed my fingers into a fist and released them.
“Yes.”
When he led me back down the aisle, wedding guests were beginning to filter in.
Maybe, just maybe, someday we’ll be walking down an aisle like this for a completely different reason.
Nah, that’s just crazy. Right?
* * *
Present day
Dane strides alongside me, his duffel bag on his shoulder. I pull my carry-on behind me as we follow a yellow-painted line on the sidewalk into the airport that will undoubtedly lead to Immigration and Customs.
When I met him on weekends in romantic tropical locations while we were dating, I’d be giddy with excitement at this point. But today is completely different. He still hasn’t spoken to me, and the silence has reached a level beyond painful.
I want to say something. Anything.
I’ve always loved Dane because he let me be me, concentrating on his own business, and then we found our common ground in the middle when we were both able to steal time.
That lasted for a year after we saidI do.
How did I let it get so bad? Why didn’t I do something to stop it?
When the couples ahead of us stop in view of the immigration-officer booths, I find the voice I seemed to have lost on the flight.
“I didn’t know what destination address to put on the immigration form.”
He glances down at me, his dark eyes searching my face. “You could’ve asked.”
“You were sleeping. I didn’t want to bother you,” I say, but what I really mean isI didn’t want to poke the sleeping bear.
“Give me your form.”
I fish it out of my purse and hand it over with a pen.
He says nothing, just scribbles an address in the spaces I left blank, and hands it back to me. The line inches forward, and I can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversations happening all around us.
“So, first snorkeling, and then cave-tubing, and then we’re going to do the zip-line. Don’t worry, I’ve got it all planned.” This comes from the perfectly pink lips of a perky young brunette withBrideprinted on her shirt in gold script.
Honeymooners. How sweet.
Her new husband smiles at her indulgently, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What makes you think I’m going to let you out of our room?”
She giggles, and something that might be cute any other day sounds like nails on a chalkboard today.
Because I don’t have that anymore.
“You coming?”
Dane tosses the question over his shoulder as he waits for me at the front of the line. I close the gap between us and follow him to the next available immigration booth.
I hand him my passport and arrival document, and he slides them through the hole in the Plexiglas window. The immigration officer picks mine up first, glances from the picture to me, and then back at the passport.
“You stole my name.” The man’s accented English, the noise from the excited travelers in line, and the barrier between us all work together to make it hard to hear him.
Dane stiffens.
