“Don’t.” My voice cracked on the single word because I did remember. And damn him for reminding me.
“It wasn’t the right time to say anything.”
“It’s never a good time to share bad shit, right? But you know what? This is my reason to say fuck everything. Fuck the money and the shallow bitches, and Dalton, and my whole entire life. Fuck it all, John. I don’t care anymore. Not about any of it. This is my life. I’m not going to sit back and let it kick me in the goddamn face when I’ve not even had a chance to live it how I want to. I’m going to fight for it.”
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “I’m on the next flight out.”
“No.” I banged my fist against the toilet door for emphasis, feeling it shudder ominously beneath my unwarranted assault. “I’m not some crazy bitch gone rogue that needs restraints and white jackets. You know me, John. This has been a long time coming.”
“And you choose now to have your emotional emancipation? Did they ring you again?”
“No.”
I heard him sigh. “Jesus, Grace.”
Flicking my wrist, I checked the time on my watch. Travis and Casey would be out there waiting, probably wondering if I’d missed my flight. “I should go.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me there?”
“I’m sure.”
After assuring John I’d call him later that night, I hung up the phone and stared at the back of the toilet door. My eyes burned but I didn’t let myself cry. I locked my jaw and breathed deep as I blinked them back.
The long drawn out squeak from the restroom door opening interrupted my pep talk. The sound of boots was heavy and I jolted when someone rapped smartly on the toilet door I was barricaded behind.
“Ma’am? Airport security. Can you step out of the toilet please?”
I tensed. What the hell? Were they really going to call me out for disturbing the peace? Did they have nothing better to do?
“Just a minute,” I called out, tucking my phone back into bag.
“Now, ma’am.” Her tone was firm, indicating if I didn’t open the door and step out immediately, she would storm it like a one-woman SWAT team. In this tiny space, all that would achieve was the door slamming in my face.
Not relishing the idea of a bloody nose or black eye, I unlatched the lock and opened it. My eyes stared at her shiny boots, following the starched uniform upwards to the dark hair pulled back into a bun so severe it only emphasised her narrowed eyes. She stood directly in front of me, barring my way out.
“Is there a problem?”
“Yes there is.” She took one precise step backwards. “Please step outside of the toilet stall. We’ve been informed you may be carrying drugs. You’ll need to come with me so we can arrange a search of your person and all your items.”
Drugs? My mouth opened and closed. My person? Did she mean a strip search? Surely this was some kind of joke?
The restroom door opened again. This time there was no drawn out, sinister squeak. It banged open with purpose, making me flinch.
“Grace, baby?” The words were spoken casually yet the deep voice rumbled through the confined area, setting off shivers across my skin.
My eyes shifted from the current threat to the strange man suddenly invading the female restroom. I blinked. Flirty blue eyes, clear as a luminous crystal, raked me over in a way that suggested he knew me. Intimately. For a split second, I wished it were true. In my line of work I saw pretty boys every day, but this guy oozed masculinity in a way they never could. His dirty, dark blond hair was casually windblown, not carefully and deliberately mussed like the male models I worked with. His shirt and jeans were worn and faded, comfortable, yet easily emphasised the wide chest and biceps thick with muscle.
With his full lips, straight nose, and firm, stubbled jaw, he bordered somewhere between rugged man and pretty boy. It was quite a feat. Unfortunately, he appeared on the verge of insanity because I’d never met him in my life.
I opened my mouth, prepared to tell him I was no one’s baby and he could shove that endearment up his clacker, when he shot me a warning glance. The sharp flash of intelligence skewered me before the lazy, amused glint returned to his eyes. “There you are. I was getting worried.”
“Casey!” The security guard grinned, startling me with her sudden friendly demeanour.
Casey? I mouthed, looking between the two as I tried to make sense of the situation.
He returned her grin, dimples popping as he turned those flirty eyes on her like he knew her too. “Helen. How’s the move from Bankstown Police treating you?”
Helen smoothed a hand over her tidy hairstyle, ensuring no strands dared stray from formation and then shrugged. “It’s a paycheque. How are things with you cowboys over at Jamieson and Valentine Consulting? Haven’t rolled any cars today?” She laughed loud and hard.