Читать книгу The A-List Collection - Victoria Fox - Страница 69

Lana had chosen to fly direct from LAX. She boarded an ordinary plane, with no entourage, no security or bodyguards. In a baseball cap and dark glasses she was something of a conspicuous figure, but moved quickly through the airport so that by the time she was recognised, it was already too late. The aircraft was only half full, so she was able to sink into her seat, look out the window and go, for the most part, unnoticed.

On the plane she slept, plunging so fast into a deep, sudden unconsciousness that each time she woke it felt like hours had passed, not minutes.

She sipped a bottle of water and tried not to over-think what she was doing. It was foolish; a hasty, ill-considered, selfish plan. But she didn’t know what else to do. Every time she reached for a solution it was like running trapped in a dark grid of streets, every avenue a dead end. This was her only lifeline.

Placing a hand on her stomach, Lana tried to connect with the person inside. It didn’t seem possible that life had caught on–a chance thing, tiny but strong and wanting to fight, accepted by her body without her consent. She felt like she was walking around in someone else’s skin, like she had borrowed a coat that didn’t quite fit.

A flight attendant offered her coffee, clearly star-struck. When Lana declined, she put down her tray and produced a paper napkin and pen.

‘Would you mind?’ she asked excitedly, keeping her voice hushed, holding them out.

‘Of course.’ Lana scribbled her name and the woman beamed, stuffing it in her uniform pocket. Lana wondered if she could tell, like every female she encountered instinctively knew.

The plane dropped through an air pocket and Lana gripped one hand to her seat, the other to her belly. She felt a violent, visceral surge of protectiveness. There were two of them in it now; she wasn’t alone.

It was cowardice, running away when the going got tough and there was no one else, disturbing the life of a man whose heart she had no rights to.

She closed her eyes. For years she had kept her distance with people, it was safer. Friends, colleagues, lovers–since Lester died she had kept them all at arm’s length. People got hurt when they got close, it had always happened that way. After her brother’s death she had lost contact with her foster mom: it was entirely her choice, she had felt too ashamed, too much of a liar to continue writing, and when she moved from Belleville it hadn’t occurred to her to pass on the new address. All she’d ever done was cut people out; shut herself away when they wanted to help. She thought of Arlene with regret and wondered if it was too late.

This child deserved an honest start, and a mother with the courage to face up to her past. There was only one person she could go to. Only one person she could trust.

Briefly Lana turned on her cell as they began their descent into Vegas. A missed call from Rita–shit, she wouldn’t be pleased–and one from Cole. His single attempt spoke volumes. With a heavy heart she knew he had detected her absence. Her thoughts darted to the pregnancy test that she’d stupidly left in the trash–thank God she was the only one with a key. It would be safe there until she figured out what to do.

She had lost enough family to last ten lifetimes. Whatever the outcome, she was keeping this baby.