The long drive to Malpensa is very quiet except for the loud thinking we’re both doing. The end’s rushing at us way faster than I’m ready for. In a few hours, I’ll be back to being nobody, invisible. Disposable. Just when I’m getting used to being a person again, even if I’m a fake person.
It’s not until we’re chopping through the early-morning traffic on the ramp to Terminal 1’s check-in level that Carson says anything. “Like what you did for her.”
Not the reaction I expected. “Yeah?”
She nods. “Kept your promise. Too many guys don’t do that.”
I know. I never used to.
The entrance to Delta’s check-in counters is at nearly the far end of the low-slung, tan-concrete-and-black-glass terminal. Carson muscles the Alfa into a space not much bigger than three cocktail napkins between a taxi and a delivery van. She pops the trunk, sighs, then braces her palms against the wheel. “Here you go. I’ll dump the car.”
That’s it? I watch her stare out her side window for a few moments. I thought we’d made more progress than this, that we’d at least say goodbye. “What’re you going to tell Allyson about me?”
She shrugs after a moment. “You’re a pain in the ass. Useless in a fight. You liked that dress way too much.”
“I’ll see that dress in my sleep.”
“Hope it gives you nightmares.”
The words sound like the Carson I met three weeks ago, but the tone’s different. She’d have been drawing blood back in Brussels, but now it’s like she’s throwing packing peanuts at me. What I can’t tell is whether she thinks this is banter, or she just doesn’t care.
“Is that all you’re going to tell her?”
She abuses the steering wheel a little. “You did okay. You did shit—” she throws up her hands “—I wouldn’t have a clue. You’re smart. Learn fast.” She examines the backs of her hands, now resting on the wheel. “But Jesus, you were way too nice to me. Stand up for yourself.”
The slouch, looking everywhere but at me… is this Carson feeling guilty? Not knowing what to say? Not knowing where she stands? That’s my life since the arrest. “Carson… I get it now. Why you did what you did back there. Why you try to put people off. I just… I was surprised. But I understand.”
Carson watches a Volvo station wagon replace the delivery van. She swallows. “Take off. Gonna miss your flight.”
“It’s in three hours.”
“It’s Italy. Might take that long to check in.”
I’d told Carson I’d started to like her. It’s true, and it’s not just about that dress. Nearly all the women I’ve had relationships with have been a type—pretty, high-strung, high-maintenance, not especially reliable. Carson’s like a Crown Victoria next to a bunch of Ferraris. She’s done everything she’s said she would and she’s backed me up even when she’s had the chance to screw me over. That’s gold in my world.
Imagine that… I’m going to miss her.
“Are we ever going to see each other again?”
Carson twists in her seat to frown at me. She shrugs and turns away. “Allyson’s decision.”
“Is it?”
She turns to look at me again. This time, she looks puzzled.
“We make a pretty good team, you know.”
Her face softens at the speed of ice cream in a cool room. Finally, the corners of her mouth turn up just a tick. “Yeah.”
That little hint of a smile is like a big grin on anybody else. “Next time I need a thug or a burglar on a project, I’ll call for you.”
Carson snorts. “Next time I need an egghead artsy-type on a job, maybe I’ll ask for you. Work on my wardrobe some more.” Her voice is almost playful.
“God knows it needs it.”
Her smile gets bigger and more lopsided. This is where I hoped we’d end up—we can give each other shit without leaving scars.
I climb out, drag my suitcase out of the trunk, then return to the open door and lean in. “Hey… I know what it’s like when you can’t talk about what you do. If you ever need somebody to talk to, somebody who understands… give me a shout. I’m a good listener.”
Carson peers at me for a few moments, maybe trying to figure out what I’m up to. I think she finally decides I’m serious, which I am. “Not real good at talking.”
“You do fine once you get going.” I hold out my right hand to her. After some thought, she shakes it. “Take care.”
“Yeah. Keep running.”
“If I do, next time I’ll keep up with you.”
“You wish.” There’s that funny, lopsided smile, like a smirk without the malice.
I watch the Alfa disappear into the traffic. It goes too fast.