Page 86 of Look, Don't Touch

“Aloud!” Nat demands.

Part of me wants to keep his words for myself. And another part, an uncharted part, wants to share them, to stake a claim that I have no right to boast.

“Hailey, the rear cabin has been set up with all the things Plinko requires. My pilots have offered to cat sit while you’re on the ground. I would love nothing more than to…” I catch myself before I choke on a happy sob and swallow it down. “…than to be with you on this journey, to hold you close and give you comfort, but I know it’s something you need to do on your own. Plinko will give you what you need until I can. Yours in every way, Arlo.”

Sigrid clutches her chest. Sana uses the backs of her fingers to wipe at her eyes. They both sigh while I blink at the words written as plainly as words can be.

Yours in every way.

“Fuck.” Nat sobs and clutches Plink to her bosom. “I need a drink.”

I don’t care that it’s nine thirty in the morning since Mrs. Friedman needed to come in at eight, I second the notion.

The ladies get us situated with drinks and snacks and toys for Plink that didn’t come from my apartment. I stare at my cat. As we set a course for my hell on earth, I’m swamped with gratitude. It’s a feeling I haven’t spent much time examining in my life, but with Arlo in it, I’ve found myself experiencing it more and more, holding it tight and studying it closely.

When we land in Iowa, and Sigrid and Sana, Arlo’s beautiful and badass pilots, have taken over kitty care, Nat takes my hand, and we descend onto the tarmac. A Town Car and driver wait for us at the end of the stairs.

He doesn’t strike me as a normal driver. The man is fit in a way a suit cannot hide. His Asian descent is apparent in his bow and the severity of his jawline.

I must study him a little too long because the corner of his mouth tips in the barest hint of a smile. Then I shift to see Nat is not studying so much as generously eye-fucking him.

“My name is Hotaru.” His accent is an interesting mix of British and Japanese. He opens the door for us. His eyes are intelligent. And then I remember Arlo’s words from our very first meeting.

He’s my guy.

“Why are you in Iowa?” Nat blurts. “You need to be in New York or Milan. London or Paris,” she tacks on.

“I live in New York,” he informs her.

“Then I’ll have you on the runways and magazine covers in no time,” she beams.

“Domo arigato gozaimasu.” He bows. “But I have a job that suits me better.”

“You’re not a driver,” I surmise by the glint in his eyes.

“I am, if that is what Mr. Judge requires.” He evades.

“What else do you do that Mr. Judge requires?” Nat’s voice is thick with innuendo.

“Many things,” Hotaru purrs. “Today, I’m protecting his heart while it’s not near his body, and her beautiful aunt.”

My heart heats a thousand degrees, cooking me along with itself in the process. Nat giggles. Like actually giggles.

“Last week, I was his translator in a business meeting,” Hotaru continues.

“But he speaks Japanese,” I counter.

“Indeed.” He grins. “Most people don’t know he’s fluent. I’m a nice decoy in a business setting. As it happens, I was translating German for him.” He motions toward the car’s interior. “If you are ready, then we’ll be off.”

I nod, still too stunned to say more. This man is a lot to take in. He’s almost too beautiful to look at directly. Like the sun on earth. His words are even more to digest.

It’s no surprise he’s so important to Arlo.

When we slip inside, the divider is up.

Nat grabs my hands and pulls them to her chest. “His heart, Hay. His heart.” There are tears in her eyes. “God knows, you’re mine.”

“Stop.” I blink rapidly, shoo her away, and nearly collapse back on the seat. Women who don’t know Arlo very well saying I stole his heart is one thing. His longest friend and his man saying it is another. It’s as if my body knows what’s to come and won’t let me grapple with this sudden development. My brain goes blurry and only takes in the passing scenery of Des Moines instead of computing.

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