A Perfect Compromise. Anna Sugden

to the shuttle.”

      She wanted that so much—to have a final hug, one more kiss—but it was hard enough to let him go. Delaying would only make it tougher. “I think we should say goodbye now. Make a clean break.”

      J.B. looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

      No. “It’s difficult enough here, in private. It’ll be impossible in the crowded lobby.” Her voice wobbled on the last word.

      He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Okay. Sure.”

      J.B. pressed one last, hard kiss to her mouth and then walked out the door.

      By the time Sapphie returned to their room, Issy had regained some composure. Obviously not enough, judging by her friend’s concerned look and tight hug. Issy was grateful that Sapphie didn’t ask any questions while they packed, but chattered cheerfully about how much she’d enjoyed the holiday.

      As they checked out, Issy tried not to watch for J.B. She told herself he wouldn’t be there, yet she couldn’t help one last glance as they boarded the shuttle bus.

      Her heart skipped when she saw a familiar silhouette in the shadows of the lobby. He stood there until the bus turned the corner and she couldn’t see him anymore.

      “You’ll be all right,” Sapphie murmured, squeezing her hand.

      Issy let out a heavy breath. Yes, she would.

      The line to get through security stretched out in front of the airport. She and Sapphie joined the end and began the torturous process of inching toward the passport-control booth.

      Once they were finally through security, she and Sapphie got sandwiches and soft drinks at one of the airport cafés. After all the fabulous resort food, the stale roll was hard to swallow—literally. Issy made herself eat so she could take some ibuprofen to ease her throbbing temples.

      Sapphie tossed her sandwich in the trash and looked around the crowded, noisy, waiting area. “Newark Airport is looking more appealing by the second. Do you think it’ll work if I click my sandals and say ‘There’s no place like home’?”

      “Probably not, since you don’t actually have a ‘home.’”

      “Good point, darn it.”

      “Try ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ instead,” Issy suggested. “Beaming us back to Jersey sounds pretty good right now.”

      Before her friend could respond, the speakers crackled and their flight was announced for boarding. As they walked out to the plane, the waves of heat from the tarmac combined with the smell of aviation fuel made Issy feel queasy.

      Once in their seats Issy adjusted the winged headrest, leaned against it and closed her eyes. She welcomed the soothing stream of cool air from the vent above her head. The noise of people finding their seat was soon replaced by flight attendants slamming closed the overhead lockers and the drone of the safety announcement. The vibration of the engines firing up exacerbated her sickness.

      Issy drank some more water, then tried to fall asleep. But despite the tiredness that washed over her in waves, she couldn’t drop off.

      After takeoff, her nausea eased a little. But it returned full-force when the meal service started. The smell of coffee made her stomach roll.

      Oh, no. She was going to be sick.

      Issy jumped up and dashed for the toilets. She barely got the door closed before she threw up.

      Welcome back to reality, Isabelle Brandine.