Page 90 of Ripple Effect
Can we talk. Please?
I’ll be gone a few weeks. I need to go. There’s too much here clogging my head.Wetness stings my eyes as I press Send.
Just promise me you’ll hear me out. Please. That’s all I’m asking.
I hear the toot of the horn outside. The car’s here to drive me to the airport. Realizing my time’s up, that I need to leave this here for now, I type,When I come back. I have to go.Because I know Cal and I have a great deal to discuss.
And not just about what happened to end our life together, but about the life we managed to start without intending to.
I slip my phone in my pocket just as the doorbell rings. I open it. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Sullivan?”
“Yes?” I repeat.
“I’m Andrew with McNeal’s Transportation. I’m here to take you to the airport.” He does a courtly little nod of his head. “I’ll be happy to talk your bags.”
I open the door wider. “Just the two large ones, please. I’ll get my carry-on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The tip of his head again. I ignore the buzzing in my pocket while Andrew carries my bags outside. I ignore it while I get settled into the back of the black town car. I finally can’t ignore it when he puts the car in gear as we pull out of the drive.
Please be careful.
Tell me you left your itinerary with someone?
You’re precious to me, baby.
I will always be yours, Libby. Just yours.
I send a quick text to my brother to remind him of my email with my trip information. Then I close down my phone and let the tears I swore I wouldn’t allow to come. With a hand pressed to my stomach, I attribute it to hormones which I’m sure will be flaring up quite a bit over the next few weeks.
“Why did this happen this way?” I whisper aloud.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Sullivan? Did you say something?” Andrew asks.
“Sorry, nothing.” At least nothing that I haven’t asked myself in the last few days a million times.
61
Elizabeth
Year Six - Five Years Ago from Present Day – October 19 1400 Hours GMT
After a seventeen-hour flight, multiple layovers, and where I briefly debated driving from Madrid to Malaga, I’m finally being escorted on board theSea Force. My legs are trembling. I attribute it to the combination of getting my sea legs as well as the overwhelming beauty of my home away from home for the next two weeks.
An older, dashing man with an Italian accent captures my hand. “Welcome aboard, Signora Sullivan. It is our pleasure to have you aboard theSea Force. I am Alessio, your cabin steward. Please allow me to escort you to your suite.” He holds out a courtly elbow, which I slip my fingers into.
“Thank you so much,” I say. “The ship is magnificent.” My head keeps swiveling from side to side. I gasp aloud as Alessio walks us through the gallery. Sparkling gems glint under carefully lit glass cases. Well-recognized paintings are arranged beautifully on the walls. “Oh, my goodness. What do you look at first?” I wonder aloud as I turn to take it all in.
Alessio gives a rough laugh. “The most priceless object in the room, of course.” When I spin to see which of the many items he’s referring to, I end up blushing hotly.
His dark eyes are fascinated on me hungrily.
I’m uncomfortable beneath his direct perusal. Not only am I finally at a point where I might be willing to listen to my husband’s explanations, our child rests under my heart. Even if I were interested, which I’m not, my own honor would demand I firmly put Cal in the past before I bring anyone or anything into my present.
And Cal is too firmly locked in my present.
Making my way toward the exit, I offer a vague smile while wondering if it’s possible to get a different cabin steward. “I’m still adjusting to the time zone changes.” Not a lie since my pregnancy decided to drain my energy this morning when we landed. “Is there time for me to lie down before we depart?”
