Chapter 8 - The Parking Lot GoodbyeWe walked through the sliding automatic doors of Charlotte Douglas International Airport into the cool, damp midnight air of North Carolina. The hum of traffic from the interstate echoed in the distance, and the neon lights of the terminal parking garage cast long, flickering shadows across the pavement.
Evelyn had already stepped away to coordinate with the corporate legal team and federal investigators waiting in a private town car near the arrivals curb.
That left Claire and me standing alone beside the concrete pillars of Sector C parking.
"So," Claire said, crossing her arms against the chilly night breeze, though she wasn't wearing her jacket. "Is this where the truck driver rides off into the sunset?"
"Something like that," I replied, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "You’ve got a company to rebuild, a school back in Montana waiting for your science lessons, and a family to fix. You don't need a fake husband anymore."
Claire stepped closer, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the concrete. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the plain silver ring she had shoved onto my finger ten hours ago on the airplane, and held it out on her open palm.
"You kept this the entire flight," she whispered.
"It was part of the contract," I joked lightly, though my voice lacked its usual gravelly edge.
Claire didn't laugh. She reached out, took my calloused hand, and pressed the silver ring back into my palm, closing my fingers tightly over it.
"Contracts end when the plane lands, Mason," she said softly, her dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the engine noise of the airport fade completely into the background. "But real things... real things keep going."
I looked down at the silver ring in my hand, then back up at her. "Claire, I live out of a cab of a truck. I don't have a home address, I don't wear suits, and my life is lived on asphalt highways from dawn till dusk."
"I know," she smiled, a genuine, radiant expression that transformed her entire face. "And I teach kids how volcanoes erupt and why stars burn out. I think we both know a little bit about living through messy, unpredictable things."
Before I could formulate a reply, the headlights of a sleek black sedan flashed fifty feet away, and Evelyn called out from the open door.
"Claire! We need to head to the corporate office to sign the emergency restructuring papers!"
Claire didn't turn around immediately. She kept her eyes locked on mine.
"If I drive out to Montana next month to check on my old classroom," she said quietly, "do you think I could find a truck driver named Mason Reed?"
A slow, genuine smile spread across my face.
May you like
"Route 90, outside of Livingston," I told her. "Look for the rusted Peterbilt with a broken tail light parked outside the diner. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee."
Claire smiled, turned around, and walked toward the waiting car, her head held high, her shoulders back, completely free of the shadows that had haunted her for years.
