“I’m listening,” Kerry said while she settled on the paisley printed side chair.
“I haven’t been honest...about my health.”
Kerry sat straighter. “What are you talking about? You said the doctors cleared you.”
“Only because I haven’t told them what’s been going on with the headaches.”
Kerry frowned.
“They haven’t gone away. Sometimes they are almost blinding.” She paused. “I stopped taking the pain meds for a while before my physical so there would be no drugs in my blood.”
Kerry hung her head and then looked across at her friend. “Why?” She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me—because of this damned job.” She blew out a breath of frustration. “Are you crazy! Over a job. Seriously? What good is it going to do if you pass out or worse?”
Avery worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “My job, my career—it’s everything that I’ve worked for. Can’t you see that?”
“What I see is someone willing to sacrifice their health and maybe their life for a job that will replace you in a heartbeat with a plaque on the wall. Not to mention that you could be putting everyone around you in jeopardy if you have one of those episodes on duty. I know how important this promotion is for you. It’s a chance to prove something to your father.”
Avery looked away.
“But, girl!”
“I was scared. I am scared that it’s something more than the after effects of the explosion.” She blinked slowly. “It’s the real reason why I broke it off with Rafe.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Avery curled up tighter in the chair. “Rafe has already lost so much. Everyone in his family told me what losing Janae did to him.”
“Yeah, but apparently she ain’t lost,” she snapped.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is? ’Cause I don’t get it.”
Avery dropped her bare feet to the floor and leaned forward. “If something is really wrong with me...something serious, I can’t saddle him with that. I won’t.”
“You’re being very...Avery. Stubborn and single-focused. That man loves you. You love him.”
“It’s not enough.”
“Hell if it ain’t. Sickness and in health.”
“After the ‘I dos.’”
“You don’t even know what’s really wrong. For all you know, it could be the medication, or your recovery time is just longer than they thought. It could be a bunch of things.”
Avery wiped a tear away.
“I can’t let you do this. You’re going to the doctor and let them run whatever tests they need to run. And we’ll deal with whatever. As for Rafe, that part is up to you, but going to the doctor is not up for debate. I’m going with you.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “As long as you come with me.”
“Not a problem. Make the appointment.” She stood. “You’re staying here tonight.”
Avery nodded.
“I’m going to see what’s in the fridge, or we can order.” As she passed Avery she squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”
Avery stared off into the distance. What if it wasn’t?
* * *
“Please stow away any electronics, put tray tables up and ensure that your seat belt is locked. We will be landing in the Sunshine State shortly, where the weather is a balmy 80 degrees.”
The flight attendant’s announcement clicked off. Rafe gazed out the window as the landscape of Florida began to break through the puffs of white.
He’d barely slept the night before, leaving his mind and body on edge. When he’d returned home, there was a space in his soul that wanted Avery to be there to fill it. But the larger space, that dark hole that had begun to spread, was glad that she wasn’t.
The plane bumped down on the tarmac and cruised to the gate. Rafe unsnapped his seat belt, got up and retrieved his carryon from the overhead, and then helped a young mother who was trying to juggle a sleeping baby and two bags.
“Here, let me help,” Rafe offered and gently took the bags and draped them over his shoulder.
“Thank you so much,” she breathed in relief. “I think my son must have gained five pounds while he slept,” she joked. She peered down at the baby’s innocent face.
“He slept the whole trip,” Rafe commented, walking down the aisle, behind the woman.
“He is an angel. Never gives me a minute of trouble and he loves to travel.” She laughed lightly and kissed the baby’s forehead.
They exited the plane and walked out into the arrival terminal.
“Do you have luggage?”
“No, but my husband is meeting me in baggage claim.”
“So, you live here?” They walked side by side through the throng of travelers.
“Yes. About five years. Originally from New York. My husband’s mom got ill so we relocated here. You?”
“Visiting. From New Orleans.”
She smiled. “I thought I heard a little twang,” she teased.
Rafe chuckled. “I should have picked up on the New Yawk.”
She wagged a finger and grinned. “I told my husband that we may have moved South but I was keeping my New Yawk accent.”
They entered the baggage claim area and headed for the exit. She peeked over heads and between bodies and then suddenly her face lit up. She raised her arm and waved.
“There he is.”
A tall, medium-built man in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts came toward them, but it was clear that he only had eyes for his wife and son.
The instant they were close enough his fingers threaded through her Angela Davis afro and pulled her in for a long “find a room” kiss.
Rafe lowered his gaze until the couple reluctantly separated. Their son was wide awake now and apparently just as happy to see his father as his mother was, as he began to bounce in his mother’s arms and reached for his father. The man lifted his son into his arms.
The scene in front of Rafe was simple, happened every day, but for him it hit his gut in a way that saddened him. This was what he’d hoped for—to have his own family to come home to. Maybe this kind of life wasn’t in the cards for him. That realization broke something inside him.
The woman turned toward Rafe. “I am so sorry. Sweetie, this nice man helped me with my bags. I didn’t even ask your name.”
“Rafe Lawson.”
“Thanks, man,” the husband said and shook Rafe’s hand before taking the two bags from him. “Glen Dawkins, and you’ve met my wife, Selena, and our son, Gabriel,” he said, sliding his arm around the waist of his wife.
“Pleasure.”
“Thanks again,” Selena said. “Enjoy your stay.”
Rafe offered a tight-lipped smile, gave a short nod to the couple and walked away. He couldn’t imagine that enjoyment would factor into his visit.
Once outside, he called for an Uber, and a half hour later, he was in his hotel room at the W.
Rafe sat on the side of the king-size bed that faced the beach. From the panoramic window of his fifteenth-floor suite the pulsing expanse of Miami Beach spread out before him. Any other time he would be planning his night out on the town; instead he was mulling over the inevitable. He stared at the face of his cell phone, used his thumb print to open the screen and scrolled for the number stored for Janae. He looked at it, tossed the phone across the bed. Not yet.
Rafe stood, walked to the window and opened the terrace doors. He leaned on the railing and inhaled the scent of ocean air.
Why put off calling Janae? It was the only reason he was in Florida. But to see her, confirm for himself that the voice on the phone was truly Janae, would upend everything he’d believed and grown to accept all these years. Where would that leave him—them?
He turned away from the setting sun and returned inside. He picked up the phone from the bed. This time he dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“It’s Rafe.”
“Hi,” she said with that same sweet inflection that he remembered.
Rafe closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m in town. Only overnight. I thought we could meet tomorrow.”
“Yes,” she said almost before he could finish.
“Where?”
“You can come here if you don’t mind.”
“Text me the address. Noon work for you?”
“Fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
Rafe disconnected the call and realized that his pulse was racing. He dragged in a breath, looked at his screen again, swiped for his messages and snorted a derisive laugh. Nothing from Avery.
His phone chirped with an incoming message. Janae’s address. He slid the phone into his pocket, picked up his room card key from the dresser and went in search of the bar.