Page 7 of The Risks of Reuniting

I heft my bag into the overhead bin and take my seat. I'm not an overly tall person, but I always choose the aisle seat for longer flights. It makes me feel less cramped and claustrophobic. From here I can see the top of Chloe's wavy hair and it settles something in me that hasn't felt comfortable in months.

She's close, and that's how I like it.

The food they serve on this flight is surprisingly good, and I'm grateful for a full stomach when we finally land in Lima. The language on the plane has switched over to Spanish first and then the instructions repeated in English, meaning I hear all the announcements twice. One of the best parts about growing up how I did was being raised bilingual. I see Chloe's head rotate around and imagine she's stiff from being tense over the nearly seven hours of flight time. I wonder if she's learned any Spanish in preparation for this trip. I wonder if she finally asked her doctor for anti-anxiety pills so she could fly.

As she stands, she rotates her shoulders before moving to swivel back and forth at the waist. As she does, her eyes catch mine. Her mouth forms an 'O' shape, almost like she forgot I was around. She licks her lips, a nervous habit I doubt she knows she has, and abruptly faces forward, but I notice the color splashed across her cheeks and fight down a smile. Chloe is always beautiful, but Chloe with bright pink cheeks is gorgeous. She has this smattering of freckles across her nose that really pop when she gets in her feelings.

The plane is slow to empty, but I'm not in a big hurry. The shuttle from Lifting Hope Worldwide won't be here to pick us up for another thirty minutes. I've been to the Lima airport enough to know that it'lltake some time to get to customs and make my way through the line. My dual citizenship and language skills help, but Lima is a city of millions and even though the airport is organized, you can't move that many people in a timely fashion.

I make an effort to keep an eye on Chloe without getting in her space. She's never been here, and I'm not sure what instructions Lifting Hope would have sent her. She pauses inside the gate area, looking at her phone screen, and then looking around. I slow, waiting to see what she'll do. There's no way I'm leaving her to fend for herself if she gets confused. She must see what she's looking for, because she nods once and starts walking. Thankfully, it's toward customs, so I follow at a distance.

We arrive at the customs queue and both get in line. I can technically skip this line and go into the Peruvian queue, which would be faster, but I don't want to lose track of her. Plus, she looks like such a tourist, and the second she passes from the agent booths into the shopping area adjacent, the sales people are going to be after her. I don't want her to get too turned around or overwhelmed. Of course, I'd never tell her these thoughts. Chloe prides herself on being independent and intelligent. My caretaking of her always had to be sneaky, but half the fun was in the challenge.

I haven't been challenged for months now. Not that pharmacy school isn't challenging. It's just different.

Chloe gets a little caught up explaining herself and her length of stay to the customs agent, and I finish first. I pretend to be looking at some really tempting duty-free chocolates while I wait, and she makes it through, walking away from the booth with a smile still on her face – clearly proud of herself – right to where I'm standing.

Her smile immediately fades when she sees me. "I didn't think you liked chocolate that much," she says.

I grin. "People change."

She huffs. "Are you following me to make sure I get through this? Because I haven't needed you yet, and I don't expect to."

The words prick and I stiffen. She notices the double meaning and blinks a few times, but doesn't apologize or back pedal. She used to do both when she knew she'd hurt me. The unsaid apology stings nearly as much as the accidental dig. I clear my throat, determined to play it lightly.

"It's just good manners when you run into a former acquaintance, in a foreign country where you speak the language, to make sure they're all right."

The cold, casual words don't make me feel good, but they appear to set her back on her heels a bit and help me feel a little more in control.

She bites her lip and looks around, as though really seeing the unfamiliar surroundings. "Right."

"Right," I repeat.

"I can't believe I did it," she whispers to herself. "I got on a plane and flew for hours." Her eyes catch mine and she goes back into business mode. "So, I'm guessing you know where Lifting Hope will pick us up?" she asks, and I nod, not giving her any more of my words to use as ammo. "I'd appreciate the guidance," she manages.

I smile – taking on a tour-guide persona – big and fake. "Of course, miss, please follow me."

I turn, and move quickly, tossing the strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder and holding the top handles in a tight fist because it's killing me not to take her hand and have her walk by my side as I tellher about all the things we're passing. I'd always hoped to share this with her, but not like this. Never like this.

The silence is stifling, and so is that same citrus scent I can smell from just over my shoulder, where she follows closely but at a safe distance. I'm grateful that the groups of people are moving steadily and we can make our way relatively easily through the doors that lead out to the waiting area where I'm expecting to find a driver holding a sign. I politely hold the door for Chloe, doing my best to step sideways and avoid brushing up against her – something neither of us needs right now.

"The driver should be over in that group of people holding signs. Look for Lifting Hope, or our last names," I say when I'm by her side again.

She bites her lip and nods, wrapping her slim hands around the straps of her backpack. Her nails are clean and perfectly filed, and my eyes dip to where her three gold chains, in different lengths and designs, sit against her throat and the exposed skin under her collar bones. Without even realizing I'm doing it, I search for the narrow chain I gave her, the one that spells out her name, but it's missing from the collection. I hate that she took it off, even though I have no reason to think she'd still wear it.

"I think I see the driver," Chloe says, startling me out of my thoughts, and I hurry to look up, knowing I have no business scouring her chest for a necklace.

Thankfully she turns to meet my eyes after I look away, and my gaze shifts quickly to where she's pointing. Sure enough, a small square sign is being waved in the air with the familiar logo and Lifting Hope Worldwide handwritten underneath.

"Yep. Let's go," I state.

I step in front of her and blaze a trail through the dozens of drivers who are waiting. Chloe follows behind. I wonder what she's thinking and how she feels about the rapid fire Spanish swirling all around her. Family members are greeting one another, strangers are being introduced. Does she follow that? Or is she unable to understand any of it?

"Carlos said that there would be a few of us meeting up with the shuttle tonight," Chloe says, referring to the man who runs Lifting Hope.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Do you see them?" she asks.

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