Page 31 of Trouble from Abroad
It tastes insane. Well, it’s fried dough and sugar—what could possibly go wrong?
Somewhere between the screaming rides and our fifth snack, we collapse onto a bench with a view of the historic Parachute Jump, its red tower stabbing the sky. The whole place buzzes—screeching seagulls, coaster tracks creaking, arcade bells clanging, and a salty breeze thick with nostalgia and hot oil. It’s chaotic, a little grimy, and totally alive. I love it.
Lily, sugar-crashed and sun-kissed, curls up in my lap like a baby koala during lunch and dozes off. Her little snores puff against my arm. I press my cheek to the top of her head and let the moment stretch, rocking her side to side. Preston drapes his hoodie over her. “She always gets cold when she falls asleep,” he murmurs.
The doctor slides closer to me on the bench, looking jealous as hell that his lap didn’t make the cut. April leans in from across the table, eyes sharp on him. “Have you heard back from the lawyer? The PI? Is there any news on Blake?”
We both glance down at Lily, but she’s out cold.
I pull out my phone from my jacket, a sorry excuse to give them privacy. I’m not sure if I’m meant to hear this, but there’s no graceful way to leave. I feel Preston watching me again. Every time I’ve checked my phone today, I’ve felt his stare. On me and on the screen.
“Pres,” April calls his attention back.
“Sorry,” he says but pauses. “I spoke to the family lawyer Liam recommended. There’s something called ‘service by publication.’ If you can’t locate your spouse, you can still move forward with the divorce.”
April dips the corners of her mouth for a beat. “You lost me at publication.”
“Don’t ask me to explain legal stuff on a Saturday, A,” the doctor begs.
April switches gears like only she can. “Well, if you’re really sober, it’s time to get the rest of your shit together.” Damn, girl doesn’t do subtle, does she? I love her for that, but right now, it kind of makes me feel bad for the guy sitting next to me. “We need you back at the hospital. The board won’t stop asking about you.” She squeezes his forearm. “That’s why we got you a stellar PA working as a nanny. Use her.”
Liam snorts. “Please don’t tell your boss tousemy assistant.” Then he turns to Preston, smirking. “You better show my protégée more respect than I showed yours.” My eyes drop, not out of shame, but to check whether they’ve rolled out of their sockets.What the fucking hell?
“Oh, my God.” April stops this shitshow from hitting the fan. “You and Calista need to get your minds out of the gutter.”
Shit. Has Callie already said something to April?
If she has, then I’m catching the next flight to London.
“Will everyone stop making this unnecessarily awkward and absolutely inappropriate?” Preston whisper-shouts. “This isn’t funny.”
Then he turns to me, still bristling, just as I’m texting Callie, making sure she hasn’t eloped. “Miss Thorne, do youeverget off your phone?”
My head snaps up. “What’s wrong? Lily’s asleep. It’s Saturday. I’m off duty. Unless you need me to do something for you?”
He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head once and turns away. Conversation over. Not that I care. I’m too busy sending Callie something very important.
A GIF of an Elvis pastor.
* * *
We leave just before sunset. Sandy, sticky, and full of sugar. Lily clutches a plush seahorse from one of the rigged games Liam managed to win for her on his umpteenth try. In the car, we play every road trip game known to man, then graduate to a passionate duet performance of theFrozensoundtrack.
Today I got to see yet another side of Dr. Preston. I’d taken his serious, almost somber expression as his default. But the moment Lily entered the picture, that cracked. And all that was left was warmth. A face fully rearranged by joy. A man who, for a change, wasn’t bracing against the world.
His wrinkles have shifted from their usual post between his brows to settle at the corners of his eyes. The kindetched by real laughter, earned through time and repetition.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind:I wish I’d arrived today. When this version of him was ready and waiting. The post-Lily Preston.
But the thought feels wrong as soon as it lands. If I’d skipped everything else, I wouldn’t understand what this version means. I wouldn’t have seen the before. And I think…I thinkI like the whole package.
With the word “package” echoing in my brain, my eyes drop to his groin. I’m a scholar of subtlety.
When we get home, Lily and I spread out across the living room floor, surround ourselves with stickers, magazine clippings, and an unreasonable amount of glitter. She’s deep in craft mode, scissors in one hand, glue stick in the other. I’m mostly here for moral support and sparkles supervision.
Footsteps approach. I turn to see Preston, fresh from the gym, towel slung around his neck, sweat glistening on his collarbone. And yes, I clock the collarbone. I’m only human.
He stops just behind me.
