Chapter 12 #2
Marc moves closer and braces a hand on the smooth counter. “We can talk while you work.”
“About what?” My pen hovers mid-mark.
“About last night. And about us.”
I sigh. “Marc—”
“I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he cuts in. “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length since you met Drew, and I accepted that. And the delivery is gonna suck here, but then he dies, a year passes, and you’re still keeping me at bay.”
Drew’s name coming from Marc’s mouth stabs me in the side like a white-hot poker.
“I thought maybe you’re not looking for anything. But then last night, you’re laughing with him. Dancing with him. You’re suddenly all in. What about us?”
I set my pen down on the bar deliberately with a sharp clack and meet Marc’s eyes.
“There is no ‘us.’” My voice is even, but my pulse is ticking faster.
“Funny.” Marc’s jaw flexes, a faint smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth and he steps closer. “That’s not the impression you gave me halfway through that bottle of gin. I think there could be.”
“Then maybe you need to adjust your impression,” I reply, unblinkingly. “Because what you saw was me having a good time with someone I think I could like. That’s it.”
“So you can feel something like that with him, a stranger, but not with me?” His expression tightens. “You don’t think it’s a little out of nowhere?”
“Maybe it is out of nowhere,” I agree evenly. “But frankly, it’s none of your business.”
Marc’s jaw clenches and he closes the gap and grips my upper arm, his voice dropping to an icy sharp edge.
“I just don’t get it. I’ve been patient.
Fuck, I even thought we were friends. But don’t pretend that what happened between us didn’t happen.
But if you want him, just say it. Stop pretending I’m not in the room. ”
I wrench my arm free from Marc’s grasp and step back, putting the bar between us.
I’m honestly stunned, and it takes me a moment to find my words.
“Marc, let me be perfectly clear. I don’t want anything more than friendship with you.
And honestly, that’s fucking pushing it.
Gregg isn’t a factor in that decision. You are. ”
I take a shaky breath and stand my ground. “And if you ever touch me again, I’ll report you.”
For a beat, Marc just stares at me, his lips parted as if to respond, but nothing comes out.
Then a short, humorless laugh escapes him.
“Fine,” he says, straightening to his full height and squaring his shoulders.
“At least now I know where I stand. But be careful with accusations, guapo. Because it’s a little convenient, don’t you think, that you’re in charge of counting the liquor stock? ”
I stand frozen against the bar.
“Because, accusations can go both ways,” Marc adds, cocking his head. “I wonder how accurate that count actually is?”
As he turns to leave, Riley emerges from the forward cabin. Marc pauses halfway through the curtain to Economy and glances over his shoulder with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks at Riley, then back to me. “Just so you know, I’m not used to not getting what I want.”
I watch as he whips the curtain shut behind him, leaving only the steady drone of the engines and a faint metallic tang of adrenaline in my mouth.
“What was that about?” Riley asks, pointing her chin toward the curtain.
I pull my eyes from the curtain and look at her, my expression flat and empty. “Nothing, just... service stuff.”
Riley arches a brow, coaxing more of an explanation from me.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “You know how some people just get under your skin?”
“Yeah, trust me, we’re on the same page there.” She leans against the bar and lowers her voice. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” I huff, letting a small laugh escape. “No, I just made it clear where we stand. That’s all.”
Riley studies me for a moment in the dim light. “Mhm. You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”
“Nope. There’s nothing to tell.”
She smiles knowingly. “Fine. Just remember that if I have to jump between you two mid-fight, I will end it officially.”
“Noted.” I roll my eyes and unlock a supply cart to remove a fresh bottle of vodka.
Riley gives my arm a light squeeze and she grabs a tray and goes into the aisle. When I’m alone again, I pour what’s left of the bottle I’m replacing into a water bottle, and discreetly place it in the closet where my bag is stowed.
Thursday
Cappadocia, Turkey
The balloon rises in a slow, dreamlike silence, and the world falls away beneath us like a living map.
I curl my fingers around the edge of the basket as the cool morning air brushes against my cheeks, carrying the faint scent of earth and stone.
The horizon stretches endlessly ahead of us, the deep indigo of fading night melts into molten gold as the sun begins its climb.
Riley leans forward beside me, her eyes wide, lips parted in a silent gasp. “It’s like floating through a painting,” she whispers, almost afraid to disturb the stillness.
Below us, Cappadocia unfurls in strange and impossible beauty.
Rose-tinted valleys and caves carved by centuries of wind create shadows that stretch long and elegantly across the land.
Balloons dot the sky around us, glowing like lanterns drifting on rising tides.
I realize I’m smiling, the sheer beauty of it cuts through the haze of travel and no sleep.
Then the sun breaks across the horizon fully, bathing us in warmth. I tilt my face toward it, feeling the heat settle into my skin. Riley’s eyes catch the light too, turning bright and full of wonder.
She laughs quietly as she points at another balloon drifting nearby, its colors glowing in the early light.
But I’m not really looking at the other balloons anymore.
Something about the view presses deep into me.
This was the kind of morning Drew would talk about.
He’d always dreamed of seeing this, feeling weightless in a sea of rising colors.
Our guide adjusts the burner with a practiced hand, a low roar breaking the silence. “Perfect morning for flying,” he announces, his accent soft and musical. “You’ll remember this for the rest of your life, yes?”
And I know he was right. Deep down, I feel Drew here with me.
He’s watching, smiling, giving me permission to soak this in, to lean into what may come next.
For a moment the scene blurs, and on the wind I hear his voice.
It’s okay. The same quiet permission I’d felt on the dance floor, that strange boundary where Gregg’s face and Drew’s memory had overlapped in flashes of light.
I turn and catch Riley watching me. She smiles knowingly.
“You’re somewhere else right now.”
“Not far,” I murmur, looking back toward the horizon. “Just… thinking about how this feels. To start over.”
“Was this worth the three-hour drive from Istanbul, no sleep, and a Turkish coffee?” she asks, looping her arm through mine.
“More than worth it.” My voice comes out soft. “Like I said, it feels like a beginning.”
Riley’s expression softens, but she doesn’t press anymore.
The guide adjusts the burner again, and we drift higher.
Turkey’s valleys shimmer in the sun, and I catch myself imagining telling Gregg about it later.
The way the air felt like silk against my skin, how the earth below seems to breathe with the dawn.
The thought warms me in a way that has nothing to do with the rising sun.
I pull out my phone and snap several pictures. I know none of them would capture the real depth of it all, but at least they’d be something to look back on.
The balloon rocks gently, and I let my eyes fall shut, letting the moment wash through me. For the first time, I feel like I truly understand that the past isn’t gone, and it never would be. But somehow, it feels like I can finally start learning how to live alongside something new.
CH: Poolside recovery mode with Riley. Cappadocia was amazing.
CH: Sorry! I forgot the time change… Hope I didn’t wake you!
“Are you texting who I think you’re texting?” Riley asks from the lounger beside me. Her oversized sunglasses cover half her face, but I can hear the grin in her voice.
“Depends on who you think I’m texting,” I tease, stretching out in the sun.
“Tall, British, well-dressed. Apparently loaded.” She tips her iced tea toward me. “Ring any bells?”
I can’t stop the grin from tugging at my mouth as I glance down at my phone screen. “Maybe.” After a beat adding, “Who said anything about being loaded?”
“Just context clues, Cam. I’m not stupid.” Riley props herself up on one elbow. “He flies in Business, he’s a property mogul, lives in Kensington, and has a family home somewhere in Scotland?”
“So you were paying attention when I was catching you up to speed.”
“Uh, of course I was! So make sure you tell him I said ‘hi.’”
My phone vibrates.
GH: And here I am in cloudy London. Such a dull mood.
GH: No worries. It’s almost 9 a.m. here.
CH: I think you would’ve loved it. The way the sun broke over the valley. It’s like I forgot how to breathe for a moment.
CH: Also, Riley says “HI”
“Done,” I say, pointing at her. “But now it’s your turn to tell me what happened with you and Julian.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she sings, grinning as she lowers her sunglasses with all the drama of a soap-opera star.
“Tell me!” I plea. “I know you’ve been talking to Julian nonstop.”
“There’s nothing to say.” She’s lying, obviously. “We went back to his place and—” She burst out laughing, completely unashamed. “He’s so smooth. Like, old-school smooth. Opens doors, makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.”
“Okay, I could’ve told you that. And?”
“And what? Like when he took my dress off?” Her grin sharpens. “Let’s just say the gentleman act has many, many layers. The man knew what he was freaking doing.”
I shake my head, amused, and took a sip of my drink. “I don’t need the full review.”
“Please.” She sighs, leaning back smugly. “You asked. I’m only giving highlights. Like how he’s so attentive he made me finish three times before he—”
“Riley!”
“No rushing. All confidence,” she continued, completely unapologetic. “Honestly? It was impressive.”
GH: Reminds me of that night on safari. I don’t think I slept at all. Just stared at the sky and the stars.
GH: Hello! Funny—I’m actually meeting Julian for lunch today. Shall I pass the sentiment ;)
CH: Then you’d understand. This morning is one I’ll always keep with me.
CH: She’ll be fine. They’ve been talking since we left London!
GH: So it’s safe to say it was amazing?
CH: More than amazing.