Page 74 of Ticket to You

France. Switzerland. Austria. England.

The first one is from Paris, a familiar street on its front. It’s the postcard we bought together on our first night of the trip. I turn it over and Adam’s handwriting greets me. I run my fingers over his words.

Went to the Eiffel Tower for the first time. Had macarons with Ophelia Brooks. Her favorite was lemon. Accused a fashion designer of hitting on Ophelia. Turns out he’s gay. Oops. Took Ophelia paragliding. She felt sick but took it like a champ. I feel like a total ass for putting her in that situation.

Without wasting a second, I go to Switzerland’s card, turning over the photo of the Alps.

Ophelia likes matching pajama sets. I read some of her articles. She’s very talented. She told me about her family. She tried rock climbing and made it all the way up the wall on her first try. She’s afraid of heights but is still brave. Bought her a watch for her birthday. I hope she liked it.

Austria is next. The picture is of the gardens where we went to the royal wedding, where everything changed.

Kissed Ophelia Brooks. Loved every second of it. Fell asleep with her in my arms. Didn’t want to let her go. Her perfume smells like vanilla. She talks in her sleep. It’s cute. Told Ophelia about my family. Want her to meet my family.

By the time I reach the last postcard, the one with the Union Jack and red double-decker bus, my hands are trembling.

Skipped out on an interview to get Ophelia’s lost bags from Scotland. Outdoorsy won’t be happy. I don’t care. Made love to Ophelia Brooks. Fell in love with Ophelia Brooks. Hate the thought of leaving Ophelia Brooks.

The postcards slip from my hand, fluttering down to my lap.

“Do you love my son, Ophelia?” Naomipuckers her red lips like she just ate something sour, but there’s also an earnestness to her deep brown eyes.

“I do,” I whisper, still breathless. My voice cracks in the middle of my confession.

“Then come with me.” Naomi holds a manicured hand out and pulls me to stand.

“I’m coming too!” Eloise shrieks.

“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, already being pushed from the apartment by the two of them.

Naomi squeezes my shoulder. “The airport, of course.”

Eloise grabs a short, stout book Adam left on the counter and shoves it against my chest, grinning. “You’ll need this.”

* * *

My knee bounces incessantly,and the only sound that can cut through the buzzing in my ears is Naomi’s continuous apologies and the sound of jets overhead.

Please don’t let that be Adam’s flight, I pray each time, my anxiety intensifying. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but at least I have the courage to dosomething.

“I’m sorry that I was so harsh,” Naomi says for the millionth time. Turns out, a lot of sorrys can be said during a forty-five-minute drive. “I have always wanted the very best for my family—for Adam—and I realize now that youarethe very best.”

“This is themostromantic thing ever,” Eloise gushes from the backseat of Naomi’s car, leaning forward so her head can be between ours.

To try to busy my thoughts with anything aside from the endless string of anxious “what if’s,” I flip through the English-to-Chinese dictionary Eloise grabbed from Adam’s apartment, folding the corner of important pages.

My phone buzzes in my hand four times in a row, and I grab it immediately. I’ve been texting and calling Adam, but he must have turned his phone off before going through security. Or maybe he’s already up in the air. Instead of Adam’s name shining up at me, there’s a string of texts in a group chat.

Eloise

Guess who’s going to go profess her love to Adam at the airport?

Jude

That’s gross. You’re his sister.

Joel

Can you live stream the event?

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