Sisterhood Everlasting - Ann Brashares [78]
Bridget had marched through her portal to a simple time, and she was back with Tibby doing the things she and Tibby liked to do. Her mind seemed to vibrate more and more slowly into something like silence, and that was all she could ask for right now.
Lena arrived at her gate exactly eleven hours before her plane was scheduled to depart. In the annals of travel she didn’t think anybody had ever gotten to a gate earlier than her father, but now she had. She brushed her teeth and washed off the makeup at a row of fourteen sinks (she counted) in the women’s bathroom.
Back at the gate, she sat on the ground by the big window where you could watch the planes taxi away, but there wasn’t much going on at this hour. She wanted to stay awake. It seemed important to stay awake, because otherwise, what might happen to her? She put her arms around her bag, just in case.
She may or may not have been dozing, she wasn’t sure, when her bag started buzzing. It took her a moment to realize it was her phone. She’d forgotten that anyone could call her here. She grabbed it and answered without looking at the number. It was either her mom or her dad. Who else called her anymore?
“Lena?”
“Yes?”
Her mind was spinning. It wasn’t her dad and it definitely wasn’t her mom.
“Where are you?”
She was groggy and confused. “Who is this?” she asked.
“It’s Kostos.”
Her mind spun faster and in a different direction. How did he get her number? “How did you get my number?”
“I called your mother.”
Oh, shit. Well, she knew who would be calling next.
“Why are you in London?” he asked.
To see him. To deliver a letter. To fall into his arms and then have the lights go dark and the red curtain fall. There was no part of the truth she could tell him. “I’m just on a layover.”
“Going where?”
She couldn’t tell him the truth about that either. Between London and Santorini it would seem like she was stalking him. She closed her eyes and searched for a lie. “To Italy. To look at art.” She sounded like she was reading from a script. She hated lying.
“How long are you here?” he asked.
“I fly out tomorrow morning.”
“Lena, you came all the way to my house. Why did you run away like that?”
Because you live in a mansion with a beautiful and scary wife. Because you crushed my hopes and hurt my feelings. Because you promised me Someday, and you didn’t even mean it. “I just wanted to deliver the letter. I felt like I was disturbing you and your …”
“My?”
“Your …” Lena didn’t know what she was. She didn’t want to be forced to ask.
“Do you mean Harriet?”
“I mean the woman who opened the door. We didn’t introduce ourselves.”
“Yes, that’s Harriet.” He sounded uncomfortable.
“Are you married? Do you live together?” Lena wasn’t so much amazed by her masochism as by her boldness. Anyway, she knew the answer. There was something about the flowers in the front hall that made her know at least part of it.
“No, we are not married. Yes, we live together. Lena, where are you staying? I know it’s late, but do you mind if I come by? I’d really like to talk to you in person.”
She knew exactly what he wanted to talk to her about and she didn’t want to listen. Somewhere his own words were probably ringing in his head, the words he’d said to her more than ten years before, after he’d shocked and devastated her by getting married to Mariana less than a month after he’d promised to love Lena forever. I love you. I’ll never stop. I never will.
He probably felt bad about hurting her now, just as he’d felt bad about it then. He must have seen by her face how she felt. She’d tried to hide it, but she’d never been good at that. Especially not around him. At least she hadn’t collapsed this time.
This time. How many times could you let one man break your heart? What was the matter with her? And if she was being honest with herself she also had to ask, how many times had she broken his?
He was going to try to ease this painful