Public Secrets

painting before Caroline changes her mind.”
“You’ll call me.” Marianne heard the announcement for her flight. “Every day.”
“I will.” She clung for one last minute. “When this is behind me, I’m going to want my half of the loft back.”
“It’s yours. Unless I decide to marry that dentist and move to Long Island.”
“What dentist?”
“The one who wants me to have my roots planed.”
Her lips curved. It was becoming almost easy to smile. “That’s certainly a novel, and disgusting, approach.”
It was good, Marianne thought, to see Emma really smile again. “Yeah, maybe, but he’s got these big brown eyes. Hairy knuckles, though. I don’t know if I could fall in love with hairy knuckles.”
“Especially since he’d always be sticking them in your mouth. That’s your last boarding call.”
“You call me.”
“Absolutely.” She wasn’t going to cry. Emma promised herself she wasn’t going to. But they both were. With one final hug, Marianne raced off.

Emma waited by the gate, watching through the windows as the plane taxied back. She was alone now. On her own. Decisions, mistakes, opinions, were hers to make again. And it terrified her. It wasn’t so long ago, she thought, she had been on her own in London. That had been such an exciting, such a freeing, feeling. And she’d been in love.
She wasn’t in love now. That was one small blessing.
As she started back toward the terminal, she scanned the crowd, watchful, jittery. Moments before, she felt anonymous in the noise and hurry of the airport. Now, now that she was alone, she only felt vulnerable.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Drew might be hidden somewhere in the crowd—there behind the family on their way to Phoenix, or there, among the businessmen waiting to board for Chicago. She kept her head lowered, nerves jumping as she passed a gift shop. He could be in there, idling by the magazine rack, biding his time. He would step out, smiling, saying her name, just before he put a hand on her shoulder in that way he had, fingers digging in, grinding against the bone. She had to force herself to keep moving forward, not to run back to the gate and beg them to stop the plane so Marianne could get off again.
“Emma.”
Her breath pushed out of her lungs, her knees buckled as a hand dropped to her shoulder.
“Emma? It is you.”
Dead white and dizzy with panic, she stared up at Michael. He was saying something, she could see his lips move, but couldn’t hear over the roaring in her head.
The pleasure died out of his face. Eyes narrowed, he pulled her to a chair. It seemed he could almost pour her into it, so boneless were her limbs. He waited until her rapid breathing slowed.
“Better?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“Do you always faint when you run into friends at airports?”
She managed what passed for a smile. “Bad habit of mine. You did startle me.”
“I could see that.”
“Startled” wasn’t the word, he thought. The word was “terrified.” She’d looked the same way when he’d dragged her to the surface of a wave over ten years before. “Will you wait here a minute? I’d better go let my parents know why I ran off on them.” When she only nodded, he repeated, “Wait.”

“Yes, HI wait.” It was an easy enough promise since she was sure her legs wouldn’t support her yet. Alone, she took long and careful breaths. She was already embarrassed enough and didn’t want to be a gibbering idiot when he returned. He was gone only moments, but she was confident she was in control again.
“So, where are you going?” she asked.
“Me? Nowhere. My mother’s got some kind of convention and Dad’s tagging along. I dropped them off because he doesn’t like to leave his car at the airport. Did you just get into town?”
“No, I’ve been here about two weeks. I was just seeing off a friend.”
“Here on business?”
“No. Well, yes and no.”
A flight had just deplaned. Streams of people marched by. She had to fight down fresh panic as she scanned for Drew.
“I’ve really got to go.”
“I’ll walk with you.” He didn’t offer his hand because he sensed her shying away from being touched. “So, you’re here with your husband?”
“No.” Her eyes shifted from side to side, ever watchful. “He’s in New York. We’ve…” She had to get used to saying it, to meaning it. “We’ve separated.”
“Oh.” He didn’t grin, at least not on the outside. “I’m sorry.” But he remembered