Page 42 of The Love Haters

I took Rue’s red-and-white Mini Cooper for the twenty-minute drive to the air station on Stock Island—but because I didn’t have clearance to enter the premises, I had to park in the visitor lot outside the gatehouse and wait for my liaison, one Lieutenant Junior Grade Carlos Alonso, to meet me, vouch for me, and get me past the guards.

“So sorry about the wait,” the lieutenant said, after a big friendly handshake, once we were past the gates and walking toward the air station itself. “We sent a clearance form to fill out, but we never received it back.”

Great.Thanks, Cole.

“What should I call you?” I asked then. First things first. “Lieutenant Alonso?”

“Carlos is fine.”

I frowned, like that didn’t seem right. “Should I salute you or something?”

Carlos, as bright and youthful as a puppy dog, gave me a smile likeIwas the puppy. “We’re pretty informal here.”

“So should I just—act normal?”

“Sure,” Carlos said. “You’re a civilian. Nobody expects you to know the rules.”

Carlos was friendly, but that was only the beginning. As we entered the no-frills industrial air station building, Carlos introduced me to one smiling Coastie after another—all sticking out welcoming hands to shake. It was a parade of friendliness. Friendliness in flight suits. So much friendliness, in fact, that by the time we’d made it down the long corridor to the conference room, I had relaxed a little—despite myself.

Bad move.

Because the only person I really should have been dreading was the one I was there to see.

Though he didn’t recognize me.

Not at first.

We walked in, and Hutch—looking official in a drab-green zip-upflight suit with patches—stood to greet us. And all he seemed to see… was that I wasn’t Cole.

“What’s this?” He blinked over at Carlos. “I thought today was the video?”

“It is,” Carlos said. Then, beginning his introduction: “Aviation Survival Technician First Class Tom Hutcheson, please meet—”

But Hutch’s melancholy frown turned to a suspicious one. “Where’s the video guy?”

Carlos gestured at me. “This is the video guy.”

“Where’sCole, the video guy?”

“Who?”

“The guy who’s filming the video. Cole.”

“Um,” Carlos said, now frowning at me. “I guess they sent this lady instead?”

“Cole is unavailable,” I said, reciting what Cole had told me to say. Then, as if we might move on: “I’m Katie. We met—”

But I didn’t even get to finish with “at Rue’s” before Hutch put his head down, muscled past us, and charged out of the room.

Seven

“GUESS HE HADsomething else—urgent—to do?” Carlos said, as we stared at the vacant doorway.

But then, through the A/C vent, we heard Hutch’s voice next door, leaving an angry message in a straight-to-voicemail situation.

His words were as loud and clear as if he had never left the room.

“I just walked in to start filming,” Hutch began, his voice tense, “and found out you sent someone else. Do you have any idea how many hoops I had to jump through to make this happen? The paperwork? The letters of petition? The logistics? I just about killed myself—and then I worked out the timing just right so you could be here on October fourth so we could all be together for the first time in over a year, for Rue’s sake, if nothing else—and all you had to do wasshow up… And that’s too much for you? Even that? It did occur to me that this might happen. That you might actually keep holding this grudge forever. If that’s really who you want to be, then I guess I can’t stop you. But what about Rue? What about everything she gave up for you? There’s only one thing she’s ever asked of us, and it was to be together ononespecific day. You’re going to miss it—again?”

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