There is no longer any possible outcome in which our orbits intersect. She is destined for a career as CEO at one of the world’s largest global health organizations… and I’ll spend the rest of my days hauling lobster traps, until my bones wear out.
She’s back.
But she might as well still be halfway across the world, for all I can close the distance between us.
FIVE
josephine
The wind whipsstrands of my hair into my eyes as I race down the deserted road that cuts across the marshes. I press the gas pedal harder and shift into a higher gear, grinning as the convertible picks up speed. Though I’m a relatively cautious person by nature, there’s no denying the thrill of fast driving — especially when I’m behind the wheel of my father’s vintage 1965 Porsche Cabriolet.
The speedometer is inching past ninety when I hear the sound of sirens behind me. My eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror, widening as I see a police cruiser roll out of a camouflaging thicket of foxtails.
Shit.
I slam on the breaks and pull over, dust kicking up in a cloud behind me. The flashing blue and red lights never cease, even as the siren cuts off sharply and the officer steps out of his squad car. I flinch at the loud crunch of his approaching footsteps on the gravelly earth.
Come on, Jo.
Compose yourself.
Hands in the ten-and-two position.
Eyes downcast.
Deep breath.
And wipe that guilty look off your face.
The officer comes to a stop beside my door. “Young lady, do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
“Uhh…” I keep my gaze averted; I can’t quite bring myself to look at him directly. “Too fast?”
“Damn straight.” There’s a long pause. “You privileged rich girls think you can rip down these roads in your fancy imported cars without any repercussions, huh? Putting community lives at risk for the sake of a cheap thrill?”
“No, officer! I promise that’s not—“
“Save it.” He cuts me off sternly. “License and registration.”
“Of course,” I murmur, fumbling for the proper documents in the convertible’s tiny glove compartment. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been going so fast. There’s no excuse, I just—”
The sound of muffled laughter makes me go still. When my eyes fly up to the officer’s face, I’m shocked to see it’s a familiar one — my former Exeter Academy classmate Chris Tomlinson is grinning down at me, his eyes crinkled up with mirth. With the beginnings of a beard dotting his jawline, he looks older than the last time I saw him. More mature. Or maybe that’s just a side-effect of the well-starched navy blue MBTS Police Department uniform he’s wearing.
“God, Valentine, you should see your face!” He laughs hysterically. “I really had you going there, didn’t I?”
“Just about gave me a heart attack,” I confirm. “Thanks for that.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He plants a hand on his hip, above his gun holster. “You can put your license away, I’m not arresting you. Unless you’d like to head back to my place and test out my new cuffs…” His eyebrows waggle suggestively.
“Does that line ever work on the ladies, Chris?”
“You’d be surprised! There’s something irresistible about a man in uniform. If you only knew how the women of this town swoon when I step up to their windows…”
“They’re just trying to flirt their way out of a ticket.”
“Don’t ruin the fantasy, Valentine.”
I tilt my head, contemplating him. “I didn’t know you planned on joining the force after graduation.”