Going the Distance Read online

  His damn heart stopped again. Somehow this news was worse than the possibility that she was having his baby. At least then they’d be together. “Are you? Available?”

  She shrugged, looking up at him. “I haven’t signed the new contract yet.”

  He sat down beside her. “When did you hear this?”

  “I went to check my e-mail after our run. I was just watching Parenthood to try to distract myself from thinking about it.”

  “Don’t make excuses. You were watching Parenthood because you’re dishonest.”

  She smiled and relaxed a little. Jarek tried to do the same, but couldn’t. It wasn’t too long ago that she’d asked him about the work he did in Virginia and he told her he worked off and on for Brant, then kicked around aimlessly between jobs. He’d made Katrine a rocking chair when she was pregnant and she’d gushed about it to every woman she knew—which was approximately a million—and he’d taken random gigs making furniture for people when he felt like it. He wasn’t rich but he had plenty of money saved; he could have easily stayed in China until the end of the year, job or no job. But he wouldn’t stay without Olivia. Of course he hadn’t told her any of this when she’d brought up the possibility of extending her contract. As far as she knew he was only staying two weeks past her original end date, and she’d be on her own for the rest of the year. Why the hell hadn’t he said something?

  He fingered the ends of her hair. “You going to take it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you want to.”

  “It’s a good opportunity.”

  “It sounds like it.”

  “And if I stayed here, it would only mean two extra weeks, right? Before you went back?”

  He studied his scraped knuckles. “Yeah.” Yeah. Right. It wasn’t like he’d been contemplating moving his whole life here for her or anything.

  “Is Jonah still calling about your dad?”

  “Talking to anyone who’ll listen.”

  “Do you—”

  “Enough talk, okay?” Jarek resorted to doing what he did best with Olivia, since getting the answers he wanted never seemed to work with her. He placed her laptop on the floor and yanked his shirt over his head.

  “Alan, come sit up here, please.”

  The classroom chatter ceased as everyone turned to look at Alan, sitting stick straight in his seat near the back. He looked at Olivia, confused and alarmed, and she smiled to calm him. “You’re not in trouble,” she said. “Just come sit at my desk. I need you to help me with something.”

  “Help” was a word the kids knew, and at once they were all eager to assist. Tiny hands shot into the air and a chorus of “I want to helps” filled the air. “Thank you, thank you for offering,” Olivia interrupted over the din. “But I only need one person to help me right now, and that person is Alan. Take your bag, too.”

  Alan cautiously shuffled up to the front and climbed into Olivia’s vacated seat. She tried not to smile as she waited. He was a conflicted kid, that one. At once loathe to be the center of attention, yet craving it intensely. She’d figured out that part of his disdain for her had come from the fact that he found the material too easy, but the contempt had been tempered by her continued enthusiasm and encouragement of his dance routines. In order to feel like a good teacher and not just a cheerleader, she’d started giving him smaller, more challenging assignments to keep him busy while she reviewed material he already knew too well.

  Olivia handed Alan a stack of mixed up alphabet flashcards and asked him to help put them in order from A to Z. She tried to look embarrassed as she lied and said she’d dropped them, though the truth was she’d shuffled them up before class started just so she’d have something to keep him busy.

  “I WANT TO HELP!” Rose trilled.

  Olivia silenced her with a raised eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

  Rose pouted and slumped in her chair. She was still thrilled to be in charge of the CD player, but she required a lot of attention sometimes, though perhaps not the kind Olivia cheerfully bestowed on her. “Stand up, please, Rose.”

  Rose’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Now.”

  Rose clapped a hand to her brow and stood up dramatically. The class was familiar with Olivia’s hideous brand of torture, and Rose in particular had an abundance of experience with it. Though they had come a long way in their English education, no one appreciated being forced to stand up in front of the class and answer five English questions.

  “How old are you?” Olivia inquired.

  Rose sighed, pained. “I’m five years old.”

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Red.”

  “Full sentences.”

  Rose blew out a noisy breath, lips flapping. “My favorite color is red.”

  “Tell me something that is yellow.”

  “Bananas is yellow.”

  Close enough. “What animal eats bananas?”

  “The monkey eats bananas.”

  “Hmm. Very good.”

  Rose tried to sit down.

  “Stand up, Rose. That was only four.”

  Rose rolled her eyes and remained standing.

  Olivia scratched her chin like she was trying to think of a really good question. The children giggled in anticipation; the final question was always the same. “Tell me, Rose…” she began slowly, “do you like me?”

  Rose tried not to smile, hands clenched into tiny fists at her side. “Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “I like Olivia.”

  “I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you.” This was their odd little routine.

  Rose made a frustrated sound. “I like Olivia,” she said, louder.

  “Did anyone hear that?”

  “YES!”

  “You did? What did Rose say?”

  “I LIKE OLIVIA!” they cried.

  Olivia gaped at Rose in mock surprise. “You do? Oh, thank you, Rose. I like you too. You can sit down now.”

  Rose covered her face as she sat down, trying not to look delighted.

  “And thank you, everybody,” Olivia added. “I like you all.”

  “THANK YOU!”

  Right on cue the lunch bell rang, and she ushered the kids out the door, admonishing them not to tackle one another in their eagerness to get to the cafeteria. She would miss them, she thought sadly. She’d had this thought for every class she’d taught over the years—though not every student—and knew it would pass, but this morning she’d informed the school that she would not be extending her contract and things felt final and official. It would all be over in just five weeks, one of which she wouldn’t even be present for, with her seven-day trip to Thailand looming on the horizon.

  Olivia tidied up the room, ate a cup of noodles at her desk, then hurried down the road to the closest Internet café, a dingy, cramped affair that was full at all hours of the day. She waited for a computer, paid for sixty minutes, and sat down, ignoring the stares of the largely male group. She’d booked her flight months ago, a non-refundable ticket to Bangkok that she’d hoped would make it impossible for her to chicken out of the trip. But even as she scrolled through the colorful tourism pages that promised pristine beaches, relaxing massages and pure bliss, she was anxious.

  Technically she had come to China alone, but those first months had been awful, and it didn’t really count, since she hadn’t been remotely brave. She’d been pathetically lonely, actually, and it was only after meeting Jarek that she’d started to explore Lazhou. Then she’d gone to Shanghai with Marcus, and Beijing with Jarek, and though she knew it was time to strike out on her own, if only to know that she could, she wished he were coming with her. It was hard to picture Jarek lying on a beach, book in one hand, tropical drink in the other, but the image made her smile.

  Olivia shook her head and focused on her task. Brant had been to Thailand several times and had given her the name of a hostel he liked in Bangkok, where she’d spend the first two days, then the name of a resor
t on one of the southern islands where she would spend the bulk of her trip. Her hand hovered over the mouse, fingers reluctant to click on the “confirm” button that would book her a room at each place, but she did it. Then, because they’d made her promise, she e-mailed her parents the accommodation information to reassure both them and herself that she wouldn’t be sleeping in the street.

  The day of Olivia’s departure came much too quickly. It felt like she had returned from Beijing only to repack her bag and head out again. Her flight left at midafternoon, so she slept in as best as her nerves would let her, then added the final items to her pack and went to flag down a cab before she could talk herself out of it. Jarek had been roped into another supply run to Yangzhou so he couldn’t come to the airport with her, not that she’d expect it given his contempt of everyone who dared take public transportation. Besides, she didn’t need his help. She was going on vacation in a tropical paradise. She should be elated, not terrified.

  Eight hours later, Olivia touched down in Bangkok. It was surprisingly easy to navigate her way through customs and out to a bus that took her into town. Her hostel was located on Khao San Road, a popular street for backpackers and travelers, and it was ten o’clock at night when she arrived in her tiny room, furnished much the same as her apartment with a twin bed, ceiling fan, and single nightstand.

  Olivia sat on the bed with a thunk. The room was hot and night sounds drifted in through her open third-floor window. She was once again in a country where she knew no one and nothing, but it didn’t feel nearly as overwhelming as her arrival in China. There had been at least a dozen tourists downstairs with accents ranging from American to British to Australian, and so many more crowding the street. She would have only one full day in Bangkok before catching a twelve-hour bus south, so she tried to think positive thoughts as she gathered her converted money and went back downstairs to explore the crowded street market.

  It was hot and sticky outside, but she barely noticed. The sights and sounds of the market were a distraction, and it had been so long since she hadn’t been the focus of stares and whispers that Olivia began to feel a weight lift from her shoulders. The vendors spoke English and she overpaid for a knee-length skirt woven through with silver thread, and bought a smoothie made with fruit she’d never seen before. There was tons of street food, including fried cockroaches and starfish, which she declined, but she did summon her courage and eat a scorpion, which wasn’t as disgusting as she’d imagined, not that she’d ever feel the urge to eat another one.

  The next day she toured the city, riding in a tuk tuk, visiting several enormous Thai Buddha statues and the stunning Grand Palace. She e-mailed photos to Jarek and her parents, telling them she’d arrived safely and was having a great time, which was true. The fact that she missed Jarek gnawed at her. She’d be twenty-eight in four days; it was past time she learned how to be alone.

  The twelve-hour bus ride the next morning was long but uneventful, and the ferry to Koh Phangan was packed with fellow travelers. Olivia sat inside and tried to watch an old Tom Cruise movie, but soon gave in and weaved her way onto the deck to join the throngs pressed against the railing, watching the clear waters part beneath them as they approached the island.

  She caught a taxi to the small beachfront resort, a series of cozy huts arranged on the sand facing the ocean. It was paradise, and she had four full days here. Just palm trees, sunshine, and warm ocean waters extending for miles. Her muscles were stiff and sore from the day of travel, so she dropped her pack on the queen size bed—a novelty—changed into a bikini, wrapped a towel around her hips, and stepped outside onto the warm white sand.

  Her doubts about the trip faded the second she lay in the shade of a towering palm tree. Her parents had always said they needed to take two-week vacations: one week to get used to being on vacation, the second to actually be on vacation. But they had never been to Koh Phangan.

  She let her mind drift like the faint white slivers of clouds in the sky, the random thoughts somehow always coalescing into something that reminded her of Jarek. When she heard her name, she thought she’d imagined it. The small stretch of beach was sparsely populated, and the closest people were at least twenty yards away. Then it came again.

  “Olivia.”

  She sat up and looked around, but she was alone.

  Then: “Olivia.”

  She wasn’t crazy. He was behind her. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face as she turned, ridiculously hopeful. And then she froze, because the man approaching wasn’t at all the one she wanted to see.

  Chapter Fifteen

  JAREK COULDN’T SEEM to unclench his fists. Or his teeth. He felt like an angry, impotent superhero stuck in his regular body, straining to transform into his furious alter ego and failing over and over again. He’d been pacing the length of his apartment for the better part of an hour, waiting for Olivia to turn up. She said she’d come over at five, and it was closer to six. She was never late. But today she was. And, as far as he knew, she’d never lied to him. Until now.

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to let it out, feeling half an ounce of tension leave his body before returning tenfold. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. This worked up. Or maybe he could. Maybe all he had to do was think back to last Friday, when he’d gone to the Internet café on his lunch break to e-mail her for her birthday. He hadn’t heard from her since her first day in Bangkok, which should have been his first clue. Still, he’d sent her a fucking e-card and said he hoped she was enjoying her trip. And then he’d stared at the screen for twenty minutes, constantly refreshing before accepting that she wasn’t going to magically write back on command.

  The next day he’d returned to the café and logged into his account, ignoring five unread messages from Jonah to click on the only one he wanted to see. Her message was short and sweet, the predictable comments about how beautiful Thailand was, how warm and relaxing, how delicious the food. She’d attached seven photos and he’d given them a cursory glance and prepared to log out when something caught his eye. A reflection in a shop window, a bright blue smear. It wasn’t a big deal, just the T-shirt of the person Olivia had asked to take a photo for her. But something had gone off in the back of his mind, some little warning signal he’d learned not to ignore. It had been years since he’d let this part of himself take over, but it had come back to him in a heartbeat. He’d enlarged the other pictures and scanned them carefully, finding the blue T-shirt reflected in two more shots, once in her sunglasses, the next in a water glass in a photo taken from across the table at a beachside restaurant.

  It wasn’t farfetched to think that Olivia might make friends on her trip, go sightseeing with them, stop for dinner. But he knew better than that. The reflection in the shop window was a tall man with pale legs, so probably not a local. The image reflected in her sunglasses was much clearer, highlighting the tilt of the guy’s head as he’d peered down at the camera’s display before photographing a bikini-clad Olivia drinking from a cracked coconut and making a silly face.

  He’d sat back in his chair in the smoky café, feeling like his chest was collapsing in on itself, each rib puncturing an organ so everything inside him seeped together in a toxic, fatal mess. She hadn’t made a new friend in Thailand. She’d gone with Chris. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life, and someone who made a living torturing the truth out of people was always sure.

  So now here he was, pacing, cracking his knuckles the way his father had while he’d waited for his wife to come home from another night out with her “friends.” And he was just as pathetic as Aidan, because he knew he wouldn’t leave her. Wouldn’t ignore her knock, whenever it came, wouldn’t refuse to let her in. He’d pull open the door and step back so she could come inside and trample over his heart some more. But unlike his father, he wouldn’t act like he didn’t know what she’d been doing. He’d get answers, and let them sink in and hurt and fester so he learned his fucking less
on. And then, in case that wasn’t enough, he had a backup plan. He may not be able to leave her, but he knew just how to make her leave him.

  The tentative knock came at quarter to seven. Jarek had been nursing the same glass of scotch for forty-five minutes, and it hadn’t done a damn thing to take the edge off. He strode to the door and pulled it open, and for a second they just stared at each other. He studied every inch of the most beautiful face he’d ever seen, waiting for the guilt to cloud her eyes, for her to confess. And then she smiled.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Olivia said. “I slept way longer than I expected.”

  He forced himself to swallow, keeping his voice neutral. “No problem. Come in.”

  “Thanks.” She slipped past him with a small plastic bag in her hand and stopped at the kitchen counter where he’d rested his glass. “Are you celebrating something?” she asked, nodding at the scotch.

  Ha. “No.”

  She looked him over as he approached, and then stood on her toes to kiss him. He struggled to not kiss her back, not to wrap his arms around her like he wanted, tried not to let her know this was the last time. It took everything he had, but he stood there stiffly until she dropped back onto her heels. Olivia frowned slightly, then shook it off and reached into the bag. “I got you something.”

  He looked at the item she held in her hand: a tiny box with a clear lid, segmented into nine squares, each holding a brightly colored candle in the shape of an exotic flower. “Candles?”

  “For your bathroom. Since you like spa experiences so much.”

  “I don’t know where you get your ideas.”

  “And this.” When he didn’t take the candles she set them on the counter and pulled out a carved wooden elephant. “This is sacred.” The words were deadpan, and he knew she meant for him to smile, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

  “Thanks.” He didn’t accept the elephant, either, so she placed it next to the candles. He watched her other hand where it still gripped the bag, trembling slightly. She was nervous. As she should be.