Page 19 of Fighting for the Forbidden
Subject:Rome, here we come!
Opening the email I discover that Danni’s forwarded the itinerary as Lauren requested. Scanning through the information to find out when their flight leaves, my heart drops.
“Fuck.”
Jumping from the seat, I cry out as pain shoots in all directions. Knowing that driving myself will take longer, I order a taxi. I don’t know what I’m going to have to do when I get to the airport, but I somehow remember to grab my passport that I’d left in my desk ready for the meeting with Chris. Getting back down the stairs is a bigger challenge than I was expecting. I clutch my ribs, but every time I take a step down, my body feels like it’s going to split in two.
The taxi’s already waiting by the time I get to the front doors. I must look as pathetic as I feel, because the driver actually gets out to come and help me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I grunt.
After giving him my destination, I sit back and allow my head to drop to the headrest. I intend to just shut my eyes for a moment in the hope the painkillers will start kicking in, but when I open them again, we’re pulling up to the drop-off area at Heathrow.
“You okay, mate?” the driver asks, looking back at me in the rear-view mirror.
I mumble a polite response as I dig some cash from my wallet and pass it over. “Thank you.”
Standing in front of the colossal terminal, I’m not sure I can put another foot in front of the other. I knew this was a stupid idea the second I walked out of the hospital, but the magnitude of the challenge ahead of me now seems very real. There are thousands of people inside that building—what really are my chances of finding the one I want?
Deciding that she’s worth the risk, I drag my foot from the ground and haul my aching body inside and towards the British Airways desks.
“I’m looking for someone who’s scheduled to board your flight to Rome in thirty minutes.”
The woman stares at me like I’ve got three heads. I know I probably look like a crazy man, but I don’t care. I need to get to Lauren before it’s too late.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but the gate has already been called.”
I think for a second. “Give me a ticket.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are there any seats available on the plane?”
“Uh…yes.”
“Great, I’ll have one.”
The woman’s eyes widen, but she clicks on her computer and, in a few seconds, she's asking for payment. I cough to cover my surprise when she tells me the cost. Lauren’s worth it and then some, so I hand my card over willingly.
“It’s departing from gate forty-three. You’re going to need to hurry.” She glances down at my cast and then to where I’m holding my ribs. “Would you like some assistance?
I hate the idea of being treated like an invalid, but the pain radiating through my body soon gives the answer I need. “That would be great, thank you.”
She lifts the phone to her ear and is soon looking back up at me with sympathy filling her eyes. “Someone will be here to pick you up in just a second. Good luck, sir.”
As promised, a guy on a golf buggy type thing pulls to a stop in front of me. “Your carriage awaits, sir. Where to?”
I rattle off the gate number and carefully climb on board. He wastes no time in putting his foot down and we speed off through the crowds at a fucking snails pace. The longer I sit there, the more my frustration grows. It probably would have been faster to fucking walk.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the gate number comes into view. I pray that she’ll still be in there and that I’m not going to have to say what I need to on the plane with hundreds of witnesses.
The moment I turn to enter the gate, I see her. She’s standing with Danni, just about to hand their tickets over to board.
“Lauren, wait.”
