Page 34 of Golden Burn

I’m going to be staying in a retreat in the middle of the wild landscapes ofAfrica. Sleeping on the same planes of endless earth as the thousands of species of animals that I have always dreamed of seeing in person in their natural habitat. Elephants, lions, giraffes, hyenas, rhinoceros, water buffalo, hippos, crowned eagles, zebras, and monkeys.

A tinkling ball of joy is spinning in my chest. My excitement is overwhelming. I really hope I’ll be allowed to go on a safari, to speak to the wildlife conservationists, biologists and zoologists. To see and touch and hear all the glorious animals and to learn more about their habits, and take a peek at some of the data surrounding their survival.

My enthusiasm is stalled momentarily as a shadow passes over my shoulder. Odin steps into the space opposite me and bends his body till he’s sitting in the chair. It’s infuriating how well designed he is. God played a cruel joke when he crafted Odin with a sleek body I’d die to get lost in, and a frozen heart that I’d never want to hold.

“Keeping an eye on me?” I ask.

“Just making sure you don’t launch yourself out the window.” His voice is rough, hardened.

“If I ever do, it’s with a parachute and an instructor. But if you want to give it a try, be my guest.”

He grunts, ignoring me as he buckles his seatbelt. I do the same, turning away so that I can watch the sprawling green land, interspersed with bodies of water that sprout in several directions like a spiderweb. As we get closer and closer, my eyes start to water. I furiously rub them dry, not wanting to give Odin the satisfaction that I might be a little bit happy with my current predicament.

If only my mom were here. If only she was sitting at home scrolling through her phone, waiting for me to call. But that’s the thing with grief. The one person you miss is always the one person you want to talk to. Never anyone else. And it never goes away.

The plane lands, bumping and screeching to a stop that has my body lurching. Ford is up first, buttoning his suit jacket, the fierce and well-trained bodyguard back in place. Gone is the man who laughed as Iapplied his mascara, winking at his husband with a fire smoldering in his eyes.

It’s surprisingly comforting to know he feels safe to act like that with me. Like I’m not a stranger, but a person with the potential to be more. A friend. Maybe he was just trying to be a distraction. Maybe he was generally interested and happy to spend time with me. I’ll never know. It’s too tiring to try to sort through three men’s motivations. My fiancé is my priority right now.

Odin gestures for me to get up. “What about Juniper?”

“She’s staying with the pilot for a little while.” I open my mouth to argue. “She can’t come with us.”

I peer over at Juni, her golden fur, her chocolate eyes. She starts to pant, and I realize that Odin’s right. She’s not safe running around the African jungle.

“Okay.” I turn around and give Juniper a fierce hug. Her throat gurgles as I squeeze her tight. “I’ll see you soon. Be a good girl.” I press the kisses all over her face and move away before I decide to unhook her collar, shove her over my shoulder and run.

My legs are wobbly as I trudge down the carpeted aisle, thanking the cabin crew and the pilot as I exit out the door and onto the steel steps. The airport is tiny. With only a single long building for both arrivals and departures, surrounded by dirt roads and clumps of lush green vegetation. It seems quiet, yet I can sense the energy buzzing.

The fresh, vibrant air brings fresh tears. I inhale, closing my eyes as the sun shines and warms my face. I’m here. I’m actually in the once place I thought I might never get to be. It’s not comparable to say I dreamed of this. I didn’t just dream. I ached and worried and begged that I might be on this continent someday. And even with the weight of my past misdeeds and future problems pressing on my shoulders, I wantto take every second to appreciate this. To feel grateful even though the parameters of my visit are murkier than the bottom of the rivers I saw from the sky.

A familiar presence steps up behind me, hovering. “Is there a problem?” Odin asks, his voice nowhere near as harsh as I expected.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m just… overwhelmed.” Blinking, I take my time descending the steps. Ford waits for me, sunglasses in place, face rigid. Formidable.

“Pretty fucking cool, huh?” he mutters as I reach the last step, his hand extended to pass me my own pair of sunglasses. I smile, take them from him, and place them on my face.

“It’s pretty fucking cool.”

Dom strides past and leads us to a pair of black Range Rovers. Ford and Odin stay at my back, guarding each of my shoulders. It’s over-bearing but doesn’t make me feel like a prisoner. More like a treasure that needs protecting.

A man and a woman, both with rich black skin and warm smiles, wait for us near the closest car. The woman steps forward first, her braided hair piled on top of her head in an intricate knot. She extends her hand to Dom. “Welcome, Mr. Bartolo, it’s a pleasure to have you back.” Her accent is distinctly British, startling me. But she exudes warmth and charm, and I can tell she’s intelligent and perceptive.

“Thank you, Martise. We appreciate the last-minute lodging.”

“Of course, of course, anything for you,” she says, then her attention moves to me and my two foreboding bodyguards. “You must be Dr. Etta Lewis; we are so excited to have you staying with us.”

The smile that spreads across my face is completely genuine. “Thank you for having me.”

“The pleasure is all ours. I hope you’re feeling energized. I have a packed itinerary ready for you.”

Oh Jesus. I’m going to cry again. My stunned silence is penetrated by Odin stepping forward with his hand outstretched. “Martise, you’re as splendid as always.”

Martise chuckles, ignores his hand, and places a kiss on his cheek. If I wasn’t already infatuated with this woman and engaged to the man she’s touching, I might have been more ruffled by the teasing exchange.

Ignoring the unnecessary emotion, I pin my focus on the man who comes forward to shake our hands. His smile is joyful, and his voice is smooth with a Zambian lilt. “I’m Omandi. I’ll be in charge of your stay.”

“Hi, I’m Etta,” I say, introducing myself and shaking his warm hand.

---