99 Percent Mine

I’m so lucky that the room fills with it. Pip-pip-pip, my heart beats like I’m going to live forever. I need it to.

Chapter 21

I am in my own place of Zen: My passport is in my hand and I am leaving the country.

I love this moment—standing adrift in a s

ea of strangers, mocking them in my mind for their pashminas and full-sized pillows. Do they think there are no pillows where they’re going? Some people travel like they honestly believe they’re leaving planet Earth.

Mars doesn’t sell socks or toothpaste.

I catch myself; I’m judging people and being nasty. That’s not the person I want to be. I make myself lose the big gray glare and the forehead wrinkle.

I lean on the pillar beside the floor-to-ceiling windows and try to block out the noise. Everywhere, more and more groups are finding each other, crowing with excitement, taking photos together before departure. A group of young guys, dressed in board shorts, straggle over to the window to look outside. One of them looks over at me and raises his eyebrows in a hey.

I check my watch. Soon it’ll be time to board.

“Hey,” Tom says, and when I look up at him my heart unfurls. There’s no better word for it. It’s like a time-lapse photo of a rose opening whenever I think about how he is mine. So, all the time. He’s got bottles of water for us. They’re cold against the small of my back as he wraps his arms around me, a knee nudging between my thighs. He gives the group of boys nearby a dark look, then laughs at himself.

“I’m being Valeska again, aren’t I.” Getting a grip on himself, he puts the water bottles in his backpack.

“Every day of your life. Everything okay? You seem nervous.” I tug his T-shirt straighter on his torso. An elderly woman nearby thinks to herself, Lucky girl. That’s the effect this face and body have. It’s something you can’t argue with. I’m going to find him hot when I’m eighty years old.

“I’m fine,” Tom says, but he’s jittery. “I just had a surprise for you, but it might not work out.” He checks his watch robotically.

“Hey, I don’t need a surprise.” I put my arm around his waist. “You’re okay.” I succumb to heady smugness as he drops his head and puts his brow to mine. Is there anything more obnoxious than blissed-out-in-love people? Don’t care.

I put a kiss on his mouth and his hand tightens, low down on my back. Then, because we’re against a pillar, he abandons his good-boy side and takes my butt in one hand and squeezes until I squeak up on tiptoes.

He’s distracting me. I can’t work out why he’s flustered.

I try to keep my focus as he kisses under my ear. “The kitchen was delivered this morning.” I am remotely supervising Tom’s team as they renovate Jamie’s beachside investment, just down the road from Mom and Dad. “Jamie’s such a hard-ass, insisting on an outdoor cat run.”

“Didn’t I tell you? I got him to agree that one cat can be inside at a time.” Tom laughs up at the ceiling and his hands tug me even tighter against his body.

We will always, always be like this. Get in me.

“Wow. That’s a huge concession. Be proud.” I run my hand up his back, admiring the muscle. “By the time we’re home, you’re going to be moving her into the last house you ever have to.” Jamie gave Mrs. Valeska an open-ended lease. If Tom wanted to buy it, he could. “We’re all organized. Nothing left to stress about.”

“And you’re organized.” Tom returns to me. “You got your edits in. Any word?”

“My agent said that they’re trying to decide which image will be on the cover.” My unexpected book baby came kicking and screaming into my life a few months ago. Turns out, my photographs were good. Better than good. My first photographic art book, Devil’s End, is due out in about six months. Plenty of time for me to start my next submission, The House of Destiny, chronicling the evolution of Loretta’s cottage. All those little photos of mossy bricks and wallpaper cracks actually amounted to something beautiful, and it means my childhood memories can live on. I want to give this book to my parents on their wedding anniversary. Who knew having a goal could keep my heart beating so well? The new medication doesn’t hurt either. I swore to Dr. Galdon that I’d care for my heart from now on.

Tom nudges me until the pillar chills the skin between my shoulder blades, and bends to kiss me. I feel people staring. I’m getting used to it by now. We’re just so fucking hot, it makes me laugh. Take a look, everyone. Look what I have. Look what’s all mine.

We break apart just as it’s getting socially inappropriate. “All these people are so old,” Tom says in between breaths. “We don’t want to give any of them heart attacks.”

Dozens of eyes avert from us as we face the waiting crowds. The older women, those with white hair and walking sticks, don’t even bother looking away from us.

“They really are old,” I agree. I wonder if Tom’s checked his bank account yet. I’m getting the jitters, too. I hate having secrets from him, but this one was too much to resist, and my brother was far too clever.

“What’d you expect, choosing a trip like this?”

I remember something. “I got you a present. Something amazing to toast the house sale.” I dig around in my backpack. “I can’t even tell you how hard I fought for this. Some asshole was trying to outbid me, right down to the last second.” I tug out the bottle and present it to him.

“You got me a bottle of Kwench.” He laughs and studies the label.

“It’s worth more than a bottle of Cristal champagne. If it’s not fizzy, I’m going to be furious.”