Losing Francesca (28 page)

Chapter Forty-One - Faina

Breakfast is a flurry of excited conversation about our day. And the funny part is that I don't even need to ask Sophia if we can go shopping in the market, she offers as soon as she enters the breakfast room. In fact, she sweeps into the room in her long flowing beach robe and insists that we go to the main island early so we can shop.

She leans over my father, who is happily sipping coffee, and kisses him on the cheek. "You can meet us at the restaurant later if you want." Then she takes her seat next to him, across from me, and lets out a long contented sigh.

Hope courses through my veins as I dare to imagine my dad will agree to stay behind so I can sneak off.

My dad swallows his coffee. "No, we'll go together. Nic, you won't mind shopping with Faina, right?"

When my father asks you a question with the word
right
at the end, you know it's just a formality, and since Nic knows my dad better than all of us, he enthusiastically agrees. "I'll keep her close, don't worry."

I force a smile as Nic squeezes my knee under the table. He's been with me all summer. My dad was totally serious about the whole bodyguard thing, it's just that he kept his distance before. But now that we're engaged, I bet he's gonna hang out and chat with Sophia and me. I start picturing all the ways I might be able to slip into Bula Cafe without being noticed and before I know it, it's just Nic and I at the table and he's waving his hand in front of my face.

"Nic to Faina, hello?"

I smile. "Sorry, what?"

He scowls at me. "What were you thinking about? I was asking you questions."

"Can you repeat it, please? I was daydreaming about shopping. Maybe I can look for wedding stuff?"

Another scowl. "Wedding stuff in Fiji?
Faina
." But luckily he buys my lie and repeats the question. "I asked if you closed those accounts."

I look around for my dad, but he's busy out by the pool talking on the phone. "Yes, it was just an old Facebook account, but I feel like I need a fresh start, so I just deleted it."

"That was it? Just the one account?"

"Yeah," I say with a smile.

"Because when you came to my house, you said
accounts
. Plural. More than one. So which one
didn't
you delete?"

"Uh, well—" He's waiting for me to lie, so I tell the truth instead. "My blog. I kept the blog because it's got so many pictures attached to it, I need to download them before I delete it, otherwise they'll just be gone." I see him getting ready to object and I do a little preemptive strike. "They are just pictures of my feet, Nicolae, there is not one photo of my face, so relax. I'm not that stupid."

"Feet?" he asks laughing. "You are adorable." And then he leans in and kisses me. Not on the cheek or the head, but right on the lips.
Like he's my fiancée
. He grabs my face between his hands and opens his mouth a little and before I even know what I'm doing, I'm kissing him back. Our tongues are pushing against each other, and his mouth is tasting me.

He pulls away a few seconds later and smiles. "Thank you." He brushes his knuckles down my cheek and stands, then takes my hand and guides me to my feet.

It was a nice kiss. It was soft, I guess. But my knees are not weak and my head is not spinning. And these things should count, right? If you love a man, his kisses should make you feel weak and light?

Like Brody's kisses?

What am I doing?

I walk back to my room and take a shower, but every moment I spend in there is a conflicted mess of feelings. Nicolae is right, it
would
be easy to love him. Because I already like him a whole bunch. But I don't love him the way I love Brody. It's not the same.

Does it matter? I'm just not sure.

What am I doing?

I lean against the tiled wall and then have to sit on the little bench on the far side of the stall. Maybe I should leave the phone at home? Maybe I should forget all about these Americans?

I feel like the most ungrateful daughter on the planet. In every way. I'm a bad daughter to my dad because he's done so much to help me get through this ordeal. He's left me alone and let me stomp around like a baby. And I'm the worst non-daughter to Frank, because I walked away without saying goodbye and I was mean to him when all he wanted was to be nice to me.

And I'm a terrible fiancée to Nicolae, because I'm making plans to get in touch with whomever is here to talk to me on the hopes of seeing Brody again.

And I'm a backstabbing friend to Brody because I let Nic kiss me and now I'm having doubts. So many doubts.

I am such a bad, bad person.

I feel like I'm floating between identities, between families, between boyfriends, between futures. I've had to lose myself so many times, I'm not even sure who I am right now. I can't go on like this, wondering who I was, who I should be, who I will be.

I can't be a wife to Nic if all I think about is Brody. I need to find myself before I can move on, and maybe this meeting today can help me do that.

Chapter Forty-Two - Faina

Even though Nadi is the home to the international airport on Fiji's biggest island of Viti Levu, it is not a luxury resort, it's just a small town where people live and work. That means it's like most places in the world and it looks—lived in. So while
all
of Fiji is breathtakingly beautiful, a city is a city is a city. Nadi has a bit of localized pollution and litter, ugly cars, and ordinary streets filled with regular people just trying to get through their day and maybe have a little fun before the sun sets.

I like this about Nadi. I like eating in town and shopping at the open-air market with everyone else. We never eat at the resorts with the tourists. In Nadi, we are locals so we act local. We walk around, we eat at the family-owned restaurants, and we buy fruit from the market.

Salvatore's is a great Italian restaurant that we go to often. My dad knows the owners and they usually spend time chatting about things no one in their right mind would ever ask my dad in Russia. I like this about Nadi as well. Because to everyone here my dad is just Vik. It's hard to miss the fact that he's Russian Mafia, I mean it's tattooed all over his body. But people don't care. And he never uses his power down here. He lets people flip him off on the road and shoot him dirty looks if he accidentally bumps into someone. This is home, these people are our family, and family are allowed to get away with things other people can't.

They all know us because even though we are not pretentious, we are still very rich. So as we stroll through the market looking at handmade goods and fresh food, they call out "Filia! Where have you been?" Or "Filia, I have something sweet for you, come get a present!"

Nic holds my hand and this has everyone's eyebrows at attention. I can tell they want to ask, it's hard to miss the winking and smiling as they check out my massive diamond, but most of them settle for stolen looks and smirks.

We wind our way around the stalls, my dad stopping to talk to the various vendors. One guy who chats with my dad asks him about work, which is just funny.
Work
. I shake my head at that because that's not something most people want to know about him. I steal a glance up at a wall clock as he and Nic joke with the man and realize it's almost four.

I need to make a decision.

"Filia!" Sophia calls from down the aisle. "Do you want a tea?" She's holding up a bottle of iced tea from a vendor's cooler.

"Can we go to Bula and get one?"

And my decision is made because everyone, even my dad, thinks this is a good idea. So we walk slowly out of the market and make our way a short distance down Queen's Road and enter the cafe.

It's air-conditioned in here, which is one of the reasons why it's so popular, and the blast of cool air feels good because my pulse is racing and I'm starting to sweat with anxiety.

Nic squeezes my hand and then looks at me funny. "You OK, Fee?"

I have to gulp down my thumping heart when he uses that nickname. My dad has always called me Fee, but I've never heard Nic say that before. It's always been Filia or Faina. I wrap my arms around myself and pretend to shiver. "The AC gave me a chill and I need to use the restroom. Get me a sweet tea and I'll be right back, OK?"

He leans in and kisses me, not an attempted sexy kiss like the last one, just a peck. "Sweet tea is for tourists."

I smile and shrug as I pull away and turn the corner to walk down the short hallway to the restrooms.

My heart is beating so fast now I can barely work the handle on the door. Inside the bathroom there are four stalls and one middle-aged blonde woman standing in front of the mirror fixing her lipstick. I shoot her a quick smile and head for a stall as I fish my phone out of my bag.

"You don't need to turn your phone on, Fiona."

I stop and turn around. "Who are you and what's going on?"

"I'm just the messenger, but Barker would very much like to have a moment of your time. He's waiting at the airport."

"The airport? Why? To kidnap me again? I'm not interested in—"

"He knows what happened to you when you were little, Fiona. He knows what your father did."

I didn't think my heart could beat any faster, but it actually does. I have to put my hand over it and lean against the stall door to steady myself. "My father did nothing to me when I was little, my father is a good man, he's—"

"He's a killer, a thief, and a child stealer. You are Fiona Sullivan, whether you want to believe it or not."

"No, the DNA test—"

"Yes, the DNA test. We have an explanation for that. But I'm not authorized to tell you. You'll have to meet Barker for that bit of truth."

I swallow and then shake my head. "No, I'm not interested, I just want to—"

"Brody is here."

I stop talking.

"He's waiting at the airport with Barker. He'd like a chance to talk to you. If nothing else, just a chance to say goodbye."

I hesitate.

"We have to go
now
, though. You're already being missed."

I hesitate again.

She walks past me and puts her hand on the door knob. "I'm leaving, you can follow me or not, but this is your only chance." She looks back as she turns the handle. "Ever." And then she swings the door open and walks through.

I sprint across the bathroom and follow her out. Instead of taking a right to go back to the cafe, she turns left and continues down the hallway, then pushes her way through a door and we are outside in the back alley. There's a small, dingy white car waiting, windows rolled down, a local-looking guy driving, and some traditional Fijian music playing on the radio.

The woman opens the passenger door and waves me to sit.

I get in and she closes the door and speaks to the driver. "Do not stop, no matter what." He nods, shoves the car in gear, and we lurch forward down the alley.

I turn around to look behind us as we leave and the woman is already walking the opposite direction.

"What am I doing?" I say to no one.

The driver looks at me and smiles. "Going to the airport, right?"

I ignore him, not sure if he's involved or not, and fish out my phone and turn it on. I feel like it takes forever to power up, and then I gasp when I actually have a signal and a missed text comes through from Case Mason's phone.

It's a picture of Brody standing in front of the Fiji government's little welcoming committee of local musicians at the airport. He's pointing to a sign next to him that says,
Bula, Welcome, to Fiji!
And he looks so happy I feel warm all over. He's wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and his chin is still scruffy and unshaven. His blue eyes look tired, but they turn up with his smile.

I begin typing on the screen.
You found me!

I wait a few minutes, not sure if he'll text back, and then jump a little as the phone vibrates.
You doubted me? Not cool, Fiona. ;)

I told you it's a very small world down here.

And I told you, I would never let you go again. I'd never stop looking.

And you even got on a plane. And crossed an ocean and now you're here!

I'm here because my love for you is deeper than the ocean, Fiona. Where are you? Are you coming to see me?

Yes. Yes, I am most definitely coming to see you. :)

His next text is a little smiley face.
Hurry
, it says not once but twice.
Hurry
.
I miss you.

And all the doubts and fears are gone.

His stupid shirt, his goofy smile—that's all I needed. I sink back into the seat as we take the curve at the little roundabout that leads into the airport, but instead of veering off to the right to the terminal, we stay in the circle and come out the other side, then take a back road out towards the place where they keep the private jets and helicopters. We stop at the gate, my driver flashes an ID card, and the security people wave us through, eyeballing me suspiciously since I just left here a few hours ago with my family.