Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton

One

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye,

life will reward you with a new hello.”

Paulo Coelho

LEIA

London, Monday, December 31, 2018

“Leia? Ley?” A tense voice pushed through the phone. “Is something wrong?”

A sharp breath caught in Leia Scott’s throat. “Uh…I can’t see a freakin’ thing!” Heart hammering in her chest, she dug her fingernails into the blue straps of the yellow shopping bag biting into her parka’s shoulder, her coat’s waterproof material still speckled with raindrops from the wintery deluge outside. Is it a power outage… or something worse? It is New Year’s Eve—you never know, these days.

Eyes wild, her glance ran riot through the murky darkness, but the windowless warehouse offered no clues except for the fuzzy hum of the ventilation system surrendering with a whirring gasp. A hard swallow bobbed her throat. “Shit!” she snarled, her curse joining a loud chorus of Fucks and Bloody hells rising around her.

Flashes of light—cell phones waking up—dotted the dark, illuminating the frowns and creased foreheads of Londoners stuck in the Swedish superstore’s maze of tempting impulse buys. The wine glasses and colorful cushions would have to wait a little longer for that special someone to take them home.

“Leia, what’s happening?!”

Ignoring the concerned plea, Leia’s shaky hand skated over a nearby shelf bowed with scented candles, their sickly-sweet aroma of vanilla and waffles teasing her nose, further unsettling her stomach. She gulped a breath, then another. Don’t panic. Being plunged into darkness, unaware of what was happening, unleashed painful memories and long-practiced coping mechanisms, but her heart still raced and leapt into her throat. Whatever this is, I’m getting out of here. Right now.

“Hold on.” Leia pulled her phone from her ear and swiped the screen, switching on the flashlight while boisterous comments and an infant’s wail echoed around shelves congested with vases and clocks. I think the emergency exit is over there? Walk slowly. Be careful.

“Are you okay?” The distant voice in her phone wouldn’t quit. “Ley, can you hear me?!”

“Oh, shit.” Leia put it on speaker and looked up, swerving around a precarious tower of storage boxes. “Sorry, Sarah. The—”

“Don’t tell me! They ran out of meatballs.” Sarah chuckled at her own joke. The baby of the Scott family by eighteen months, she always knew how to lighten her big sister’s discomfort.

“If only.” Leia groaned and fussed with the shopping bag’s straps digging into her shoulder. “No, the power’s gone out. It’s pitch black. There’s no emergency lighting, nothing…” Seeking comfort, she tugged on the hand-knit scarf looped around her neck, a recent birthday gift from Sarah. I’m twenty-six and still get nervous in the dark. “I feel so silly.” She half-laughed. “My heart won’t stop pounding.”

“It’s not silly. Not after what we…well, you know.” Sarah cleared her throat. “Just remember, Ley: nice…deep…breaths. Don’t let fear win. And don’t crash into anything. I need those plates in one piece!”

“Yeah, all right!” Leia shook her head, smiling wryly. Typical! Caring one minute, all business the next, Sarah always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to say it out loud, even if it came off selfish or pushy.

Children’s laughter bubbled up through the dark. “Daddy, does this mean we can have MORE ice cream?” The sweet English accent of the little boy was accompanied by a swell of hiccuppy giggles. Leia couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah, give us ALL the ice cream. It fixes everything. Well, almost everything.

“Ooh! Let’s play hide-and-seek!” Another little voice bounced over the candle display, but his boyish glee was interrupted by a gruff shout.

“Attention! Can I have your attention, please!” A guy illuminated by his own flashlight waved a beefy bicep. Dressed in a blue and yellow polo shirt that strained over his pumped-up pecs, he squinted into the abyss and cleared his throat.

“Oh, Saz, hang on.” Leia paused beside a bin filled with packets of tea-lights. “They’re making an announcement.”

The employee scratched his bald head. “The storm has caused a power cut. Our backup generator is now running, and the lights will be back any minute. Until then, please hold tight. We don’t want anyone to fall in the dark, ’kay? Your patience is appreciated. Cheers.”

See? Nothing to worry about. Leia let out a breath, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She killed her flashlight and returned her phone to her ear. “Did you hear?” The tightness in her jaw eased. “It’s a power failure, that’s all.”

“That’s a relief.” Sarah huffed. “Honestly, today couldn’t be more of a Monday if it tried. You’re stuck there, Dad’s not back from

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