Page 33 of Slow Burn (The Boston Beauties)

‘I promise, I will,’ I hugged him. ‘Maybe you can come to visit me someday too.’

‘In Bermuda?’ Shit, did he know that was a lie? I had a Bermudian passport and had said I was from there but went to school in Canada. Surely, I no longer looked like the pictures that my family had circulating of me. I had purposely picked the most unflattering pics of myself, ones that didn’t really look all that much like me, that Breton had given to the news and media to use.

When we returned to the resort in the New Year, I really kicked up my training, working on toning my muscles, not just losing the fat. I’d lost a bunch of weight, and I was lucky that the elasticity in my skin was on my side. I was still losing weight, but not as fast as I had before, due to gaining muscle mass.

I started to do a lot more yoga, something I already discovered this past summer that I enjoyed it, when Amber had hired Breton’s friend Leah to led us in some yoga on the beach for us and some of our friends.

I continued to speak with Breton, who was liking his new job and was slowly settling into life in London. He hadn't been working very hard on our case over the past few months as he was busy trying to finish his thesis and defend it to finally graduate.

Breton now worked for Keating Security Solutions, in their cybersecurity division. He was headhunted by Nyall, a guy he had ‘met’ on the dark web, and one of the guys who actually ended up personally helping me in my great escape. He’d been a part of the British special forces and now worked for one of the largest special security firms in the world. The thing was, Breton was now working over eighty hours a week and didn’t have all that much time to dedicate to getting more evidence.

But on the brighter side of things, my father had convinced Drew to return to Boston. From what Breton told me, Drew was still struggling, maybe not as much as before, but it didn’t lessen my need of wanting to reach out to him, as I did with my parents at Thanksgiving.

The hope of one day being with him again was keeping me going.

CHAPTER 10

JESSA

I reached the point where I was ready to move on from the retreat and venture back into the real world. In total, I spent five months sequestered away, working on my mind and body. When I felt I was ready to move on, I spent my final month in Australia traveling, as I didn't know if or when I'd ever have the chance to get back to this beautiful place.

I flew to Western Australia for a week, saw Sandy Turner and Hugo, two of my new favorites perform in concert. Then flew to Melbourne, where I spent a few days exploring the city, taking in the sights before taking a long-ass bus ride up to the Great Barrier Reef where Marcus met me and we spent a few days being tourists and going out on two guided excursions.

It was harder than I had thought to say goodbye to Marcus. He had been such a great friend to me and the support that I needed over the past six months. The conversations we had about life had really hit home with me.

While I didn't appreciate it at the time, I was thankful for him pushing me every day. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn't look the way I finally felt, confident and proud. I was still working on who I was and what I wanted out of life, but I now felt that at least I had somewhat of an idea. For a while now, I had been putting ideas down in a journal and coming up with ideas for a business case of a project to explore when I got back home. Whenever that might be.

I spent my final week of Australia in Sydney pampering myself. I had my hair cut and professionally colored and styled. I had microblading done to my eyebrows, my teeth whitened and areas of my body lasered for hair removal.

I also had to do some shopping, as I had few clothing that fit me. I kept it simple and didn't go wild. I had limited space in the one piece of checked luggage I was taking with me. It was hard to resist, as I was finally able to shop for brands and styles I had always wanted.

I boarded a flight to London, with a few hours’ stopover in Abu Dhabi; it was over a day of flying. I was dead on my feet when I finally arrived at London Heathrow airport. I traveled in the conservative dress that I had originally worn when I flew to Australia 7 months ago.

I cleared passport control without incident, thanks to Breton’s ‘skills,’ with the one suitcase with my new clothing for the spring and summer in London. I’d be living with Breton in his new condo for the foreseeable future. It had always been the plan, which was why he had purchased a three-bedroom place. He was giving me the master room, while he took the two other rooms and bathroom on the other side of the large condo, one to sleep in, and one was his home office.

I gathered my bag, rolled it and my small carry-on to the line of black cabs and gave the driver my new address, knowing my cousin would be waiting for me in the lobby. I couldn’t wait to see him. The flight had felt like a month, rather than a day, and the drive from the airport just as long. I paid the cabbie with cash, giving him a big tip, and hurried out of the cab when I saw Breton sitting on a bench outside the building doing something on his phone.

It was just after nine in the evening. He looked up when I got out of the cab and started running towards him.

I threw my arms around him and literally broke down crying. He was the first piece of familiarity in so long and I didn't want to let him go. All the emotions that I had experienced over the past few months were coming out right now. I was happy to see him, sad at everything I had given up, upset with what I had missed, and heartbroken that I couldn't be with the one I loved.

I think Breton felt it too because he held onto me tighter and longer than he ever had in the past.

The cab driver must have just left the bags next to us because when I pulled away from Breton, my bags were next to me and the cab was nowhere in sight.

‘Let’s get inside, I’m sure the security guard is going to wonder why I’m hugging a woman in a full Islamic dress.’

I laughed and sobbed all at the same time, looking down and reminded of what the sight must look like.

He rolled my suitcase and I picked up my backpack and carryon from the ground, following him into the building.

‘You hungry?’ Breton asked me when we were in the elevator.

I shook my head, ‘No, too tired to be hungry. Besides, they fed us well; thanks for the first-class upgrade, made all the difference this time.’

He smiled at me, ‘Yeah, it’s such a hardship to fly economy.’ I shrugged, and he laughed, ‘Oh please, I know you hate it.’

I rolled my eyes under the veil, ‘I totally do.’

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