Page 46 of Ticket to You

But the chef smiles. “See you then. And so you know, Romeo, the gift shop closes in thirty minutes.”

* * *

By the timeI grab Ophelia a few things from the gift shop, create a birthday banner from cut-up brochures, and write a few memories from the past couple of days on my Switzerland postcard, I return to our dark, quiet room to find Ophelia already curled up under the duvet.

I stash her gifts and the makeshift decorations in my bag and climb under the covers. Though I want to draw closer to Ophelia, I’m sure the feeling isn’t mutual, so I stick far on my side of the mattress.

Ophelia’s back is to me, and she doesn’t move at all for a few minutes. Relief and disappointment settle in me at the thought of not speaking to her again tonight. But then Ophelia whispers to me in the darkness, and my body lights up like a hundred fireworks are going off inside me.

“I didn’t get to ask my question for the day yet,” she says.

“Are you open to suggestions?”

Ophelia clicks her tongue. “That depends on what the suggestion is.”

What I want Ophelia to ask is how I feel about her, though I’m not sure I’m certain of the answer. Or rather, I’m not sure how to put it into words. But Gemma knows Ophelia far better than I do. I’d be stupid to not take her advice.

“I think you should ask me what my plans are after this trip.”

“I was going to ask you if you were a dog, what breed would you be and why…but I’ll let you go easy. What are your plans after this trip, Abrams?”

“I’m starting an independent magazine. I want it to be all about different cultures. Food, travel, art, anything like that.”

“Wow, that’s…”

“Risky?”

Ophelia laughs, still turned the opposite way. “To put it lightly.”

“I know the risks. I’ll be leaving the security of a solid career. But it’ll be worth it to pursue my dream. I love my job atOutdoorsy…but something is missing. Freedom, I guess.”

“You grew up wealthy, didn’t you?” Ophelia asks after a long pause.

How do I word this without sounding like a total prick?“I grew up comfortable, yeah.”

Ophelia laughs again, but this time it’s sharp and calloused. “Which is a wealthy person’s way of saying ‘wealthy.’”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is,” Ophelia says, turning over to face me, “we don’t all have the luxury of taking risks.”

“I’m not leaving my job on a whim. This is something I’ve been planning for years. It’s up to me to make my own way in this world. And I don’t want toleavethis world knowing I played it safe.”

Ophelia says nothing for a while, but her hazel eyes swirl with emotion under furrowed brows. Eventually, her expression softens, and she even smiles. “What happens if it doesn’t work out?”

“It will work out. Even if the publication fails, if I lose all of my savings, if I make a fool of myself, I’ll still walk away with more: more experiences, more understanding, more freedom. I want to always be learning and growing. We don’t grow in our comfort zones.”

Ophelia smirks. “Very wise. So about this magazine, it’s all about culture, right?”

“That’s the goal.”

“Well, you know, fashion plays a heavy role in culture.” The corners of Ophelia’s mouth turn up into a sly, irresistible smile. “Is it possible that Adam Abrams will start a part-fashionmagazine?”

“That depends.”

She raises her eyebrows. “On?”

“Oh, if we got the right person to run our fashion section.”

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