Chapter Forty-Seven

At the small, private airport the next morning, we sit in the SUV holding hands, staring out the windshield, watching the workers prepare our separate twin-engine planes. West will go one way, I’ll go another, and we’ll see each other tonight.

The pilots signal time to leave.

West cups my face in his palms and kisses me. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only a day,” I tease.

“I don’t care. I’ll still miss you.”

Who am I kidding? I’ll miss him, too.

We open our doors, grab our things, and head to our separate planes.

When I reach mine, I turn back and with each step he takes away, my soul goes more and more empty. What if I don’t see him again? What if something happens and I have to run? What if, what if his plane crashes?

When that last horrible question reels through my head, I gasp for air.

I try to memorize everything about him. The fit of his jeans, his well-worn Adidas, the dark blue suitcase in his left hand, the sound of his laughter, his scent, his voice. Oh, no, what does he smell like? What about his voice? What does it sound like?

I take a step toward him. “West!” I shout, then clamp my shaky hand over my mouth.

Every person on the field, including West, turns toward me. With a grin, he sets his suitcase down and opens his arms, and I sprint across the open field to land hard against him. He squeezes me and rains kisses on my forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, and mouth.

Then he pulls back and with crinkly eyes rubs our noses together. “There, that should do us until we see each other tonight.”

“I love you,” I whisper. I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t. But I can’t help it. I do love him. I really do.

“You did not just tell me that as I’m leaving,” he groans.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He laughs and plants a quick firm kiss to my lips. “You are so telling me that again later.”

“Later,” I agree, smiling.

He places a tender kiss to my lips. “See you tonight, Green Eyes.”

I nod.

One more kiss and he’s gone.

West boards the plane, keeping his gaze glued to me the whole time. I watch him taxi down the runway, my emotions swelling with need, longing, and the rawness of love.

“You ready, Miss?”

I nod toward the worker and climb into my small plane. As it taxies away, I glance out the window, and I freeze.

There, hovering along the fence that borders the private airport, stands a man in a dark suit, camera in hand, staring right at me.

By the time we land in Miami, I’m so wound up that everything in me aches, and my head’s pounding. I pull my phone out and a text immediately pops up from West.

Interview cancelled! In route back to you.

Yay! I type back, though I don’t feel the excitement at all.

On the taxi ride to the hotel all I can think about is that man and his camera. It’s probably just paparazzi taking pictures of West. This is what I tell myself, try to convince myself of, but what if it’s not? What if it’s someone from Gideon’s security?

Fear careens through my body and floods my stomach with acid. I just… I don’t know what to do.

When I get to the hotel, I go up to my room. Anne’s stuff is on her bed, but she’s gone somewhere. I sit down and look at my phone. I want to call Bluma. A whole hour ticks by, and I think I’m going insane. All I’m doing is staring at my phone.

Finally I go down to the business center and start doing searches. I look up Gideon, I look up me, I do West, and everything seems the same. He’s having me followed. Bluma’s words come back to me, and I decide to type her name into the search engine.

An article pops up from last week. I click on it and begin reading, and I stop breathing when my eyes land on: Longtime friend of the Kopeling family, Bluma Spindell, set to go in Nesiah’s place on Gideon’s world tour.