enraged me. But even if I wanted to please him, which I didn't, my natural hair color reminded me too much of my sister, so I had to do something about it. As a rock chick, it was either black or burgundy. I figured, black was the more reasonable choice. It made me look as haunted as I felt inside.
The car finally came to a halt outside the building. I paid and thanked the driver, then entered the dilapidated complex and rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. My roommate wasn't here for the week, which suited me just fine. I had been having a hard time explaining the crow perched on my windowsill day in, day out. I took a few steps toward the window to shoo it away, then stopped, changing my mind because I was too tired to bother. Instead, I skimmed quickly through my evening routine and then dropped onto my bed, unable to sleep for a long time because of the cawing outside.
***
Less than five hours later, after yet another sleepless night, the piercing ring of the bell interrupted my trail of thoughts as I was trying to recall whether I had remembered everything. The noise didn't stop, signaling my visitor was slowly losing his patience, so I tossed my sticky list on the breakfast table and hurried to open.
Gael, dressed in his usual white shirt and brown slacks, stood in the doorway, his mouth curved into a lazy smile, the faintest scent of sandalwood wafting from him. I reached out and he pulled me into a tight embrace, his lips locking with mine in a brief, sloppy kiss.
"Ready?" His dark eyes sparkled with anticipation as he ran a hand through his light brown hair that was a tad too long. I preferred it that way because it softened his square jaw and strong features.
Ready? Not really. Sleep deprived as I was, I felt like crap, and yet I couldn't tell him. Gael didn't like moaning and complaining. "Yep." I pulled him after me into the apartment and closed the door behind us, my nerves flaring up again. The strange feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn't subsided ever since Gael had tossed the flight tickets on the table, but I associated it with the fact that my love life was moving way too fast in a direction I wasn't ready to take just yet. The pain of losing Theo was as strong as on that fateful day when I was informed of her death. The wound in my heart still burned too bright to let me focus on a relationship. In fact, I had been considering breaking off with him. He was hot, no doubt about that, but the spark just wasn't really there.
"Is that all?" Gael pointed at the two worn suitcases in the corner. The brown leather was torn in places, a string was bound around the grip in case the old buckle might snap open. I nodded shyly, embarrassed that I couldn't afford at least some decent looking second hand suitcase, let alone a brand name. Gael O'Connor originated from a long line of Irish aristocrats with plenty of money to their name, but if my lack of finances bothered him, he didn't show it. In one swift movement, he lifted my suitcases and carried them down the seven stories to the waiting taxi. I locked the door and followed behind, the uneasy sensation in the pit of my stomach intensifying and my thoughts running wild again. Did I feel uneasy because I had never been a fan of traveling? Did I feel guilty because I felt I should be grieving instead of enjoying my life? Partly I hoped and prayed Theo's death was a huge misunderstanding. I knew all the obsessing was nonsense and that Theo would never come back, but I couldn't help myself. Trying to push the nagging thoughts to the back of my mind, I snuggled against Gael, who wrapped his arm around me.
We arrived at JFK International Airport with half an hour to spare during which we grabbed a cup of coffee and made our way to the gate. It was still early on a foggy September Monday, but huge crowds of travelers had already gathered at every corner, chatting as though they enjoyed every minute of their journey. Most travelers were well dressed, which was something I adored about NY. Everyone was so fashionable in a casual way, reminding me a bit of