Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance) (76 page)

The windows are weeping.

The plane arrives in heavy fog, but it’s hot and humid outside, sub-tropical Hong Kong where I’m due for a several-day stop-over.

I can see the terminal building just outside from my window, a few meters beyond the extended arm of the gate.

They all drip with water; the air-conditioning on the inside must be at full-blast.

Getting off the plane is something of a new experience to me. I haven’t been on a plane since I was a child, going to Thailand… with Dad. Since I first met Duncan.

Dad and I never did end up going to Paris.

Back then we were in first class… and it was great. Not this time, though. It’s not like I’m about to complain about it. Sixteen hours cramped in a seat next to a man with smelly breath is a price I’m willing to pay if it means saving my baby, if it means giving my child a good life.

I’d gladly pay much, much more. I guess, leaving Duncan, I already have.

But the way everybody rushes to get off the plane… it just rubs me the wrong way. Why the hell is everybody in such a hurry?

I wait until I’m the last person — I can’t be bothered to go at the same time as everybody else. Most of them push each other, hurry to get off the plane like a few minutes are going to make any difference.

I sigh, pinch the bridge of my nose and then rub my eyes. Chicago to Hong Kong was sixteen hours, and I had a seat right by the toilets. I didn’t catch a wink of sleep. Even if it was quiet, I might not have slept at all. There was, and still is, too much on my mind.

The flight was full, too. Beside me sat a guy with death-breath, and next to him his wife and young daughter. The poor girl cried all flight because she couldn’t equalize the pressure in her ears.

At least I had an aisle seat.

It made me think of my own child… whether it will be a boy or a girl… which I would prefer.

If I’m even
allowed
to have a preference.

Right at this moment, I feel an odd cross of emotions. I feel utterly alone, but also stronger than ever. There’s a steely resolve that runs through my bones, vibrates inside me, keeps me on-course.

I don’t know if leaving like that is the
right
thing to do, but I sure as hell know that it is the
best
thing to do for my child.

Distantly, I wonder what the difference is between the two. If it’s best for my baby, surely it’s right?