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My emotions start to get the best of me after the sun sets. It won’t be long before I need to leave for the airport.
Running on fumes, I take another shower, hoping it will make me feel better. Although I’m not sure anything can make me feel better.
Rafael and his spiced woodsy scent are everywhere. I can’t even go over to Valentina’s apartment to escape—there are as many memories there as there are here. Maybe leaving Porto, with all the reminders of him—of us—will help.
I pack my suitcase, stuffing in as much as will fit—even the things I normally keep at Valentina’s. I don’t see myself staying at her apartment in the future, at least not for a long time. I can always visit their house outside the city. There’s certainly plenty of room there, and I won’t risk running into Rafael. If they still have a house—and a marriage.
Marco’s not Rafael. That’s why she married him. Eventually, he’ll come around. At least I hope he will.
It feels wrong not to call Valentina to say goodbye. But she’ll blame herself for what happened, and that serves nothing. It’s not her fault—none of it. She has enough to worry about.
Although the real reason I don’t call is because I’ll begin to sob again, and I’m tired of crying. I’ve cried more today than I have in the last year—maybe longer.
I glance at the gorgeous purse Judite Furtado brought me. I’m not going to take it. Every time I look at it, it’ll bring back memories of how sweet and generous Rafael can be. How thoughtful. I need to remember him like the ogre he was before he left the apartment.
The last thing I do is remove the anklet with the tracking device. It’s a beautiful piece, especially the charm. I unclasp the angel wings and run my finger over the intricate detail. It’s delicate, yet it feels so heavy in my palm. My angel.
Giana knocks on the door just in time to prevent a deluge of tears and self-pity.
“Your ride is here,” she says kindly.
“Just give me a second.”
I admire the anklet with everything it represents, one last time, before leaving it on his nightstand. We were going to try to make it work. This was a symbol of that effort. A promise.
It’s all in the past now. There’s nowhere to go but forward. Pull up those big-girl panties, Lexie. You’ve got this.
I take one last look around the room, committing it all to memory—the bed, the leather bench, everything. When I’m done torturing myself, I close the door behind me with a heavy heart and tears that threaten but don’t fall.
54
ALEXIS
The lights inside the plane dim as we leave Porto, making a swoop around the old city until the pilot finds his route. I stare out the window, seeing nothing, but feeling everything. A big fat tear plops on my cheek, and I wipe it away.
The guards my father sent, Ivy and Callum, are at the front of the plane. I smiled when Ivy introduced herself. My father moved quickly, in a show of good faith, which I appreciate.
I love London, and I’m looking forward to getting back to my friends and my life. The life I had before my father’s behavior forced me back to my parents’ house.
I’m going to reschedule my haircut and see if I can round up a group to go to that new pub in Hackney Wick that I’ve been dying to try. I barely left Huntsman Lodge the entire time I was in Porto. It’ll feel amazing to be in the city again, surrounded by the throngs. You promised to go home first. I did and I will—for three days. That’s it.
“Do you need anything, miss?” the flight attendant asks with a smile.
She introduced herself when I arrived, but I don’t remember her name. This isn’t my father’s usual flight crew. My request to come home was sudden, and the regular flight crew must have been unavailable.
“I don’t need anything, thank you. It’s been a long day, and I’m sorry, but I missed your name.”
“Anya,” she replies with a hint of an Eastern European accent.
“Thank you, Anya. And the pilot? I didn’t get his name either,” I admit sheepishly. He’ll be out to say goodbye when we arrive, and it would be nice for me to know his name when I thank him for the uneventful ride.
She cocks her head, studying me, like she’s wondering why I want to know his name. Don’t worry. I have nothing bad to report to my father.
“The pilot?”
I nod.
“Roman,” she replies curtly. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll check to see if your escorts need anything.”
