Chapter 9: Chocolates at the Airport

Tristan's POV

I stood outside the arrivals doors of my home airport for two hours with a box of her favorite chocolates.

The crowd thinned. The taxis pulled away.

I had texted her to pick me up from my trip, and she had not come.

Hugh was beside me with his hands in his pockets, checking his watch.

"She's mad," he said. "She's punishing you for the trip. Give her a day."

"She never said no. She has never once missed a ride."

"She said a lot of things. Women say things." He nudged my shoulder. "Come on. I've got a table at the club."

I called her again.

The phone rang and rang, and then it went to the voice that says the person you are calling is not available.

It had gone to that voice forty-three times since the morning.

I stared at the box of chocolates.

On the video call, she had looked thin.

She had propped herself up on pillows, and her voice was so quiet and level that I'd almost missed what she said.

She had told me she'd had surgery.

I had thought she meant something small.

I hadn't asked.

I took out my phone and scrolled to the call log, to the afternoon she had phoned me at the hospital.

There was a number I didn't know, the one the nurse had used when she tried to call me back.

"What are you doing?" Hugh said.

"Calling the emergency room."

"Tristan. Don't."

I stepped away from him.

A woman answered, and I said who I was, and who I was looking for.

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