Page 18 of He Loves Me Knot
“¿Cuándo? No, no me dijeron. ¿No ves que tuve que comprar tiquete por Liberia? Ojalá llegue a tiempo!”When? No, no one told me. Believe it or not, I had to fly through Liberia—hopefully, I’ll get there on time!
Despite his best efforts, Callum couldn’t help translating in his head. The Spanish he’d grown up listening to—spoken the way a true Tico would—oddly comforted him.
“¿Mañana?”Tomorrow?“¿En Tibás centro o Cuatro Reinas? ¿A qué hora? . . . mae, qué tarde. Bueno, vamos a ver si puedo llegarle.”In central Tibás or Four Queens? What time? Dude, that’s late. I’ll see if I can make it.
Sergio moved out of earshot as he was called up to the immigration officer.
Callum followed a few minutes later.
The officer frowned at Callum’s photograph, which was from when he had been nineteen—ten years ago now. He’d clearly changed a lot since then. No teenage acne. And he’d grown several inches in university—filled out a lot, too. Thank goodness his passport hadn’t expired, though it was about to later in the year.
“Scott Reyes?” The officer raised an eyebrow at Callum’s last name. Costa Ricans always used both the maternal and paternal last names together—though typically they flowed together better than Callum’s did.
He gave one curt nod.
“Tenés mucho tiempo de no venir.”You haven’t been here in a while.
Callum nodded again. “Estaba estudiando.”I was studying.At least, that was how it had started. Not that Costa Rica had ever been home either.
Home felt as foreign as it sounded in his mind.
Not Costa Rica, not Connecticut, not England. None of them werehome.
The officer gave him a wary look, then stood with his passport and paperwork and went to a booth a few feet away.
As the officer consulted with a colleague, Callum felt a cold slick of sweat break out on the back of his neck. He had no reason to be nervous, but the irony that they might question whether he belonged here—or was who he said—wasn’t lost on him.
A few minutes passed before the officer returned, a leisurely swagger to his step. He clearly wasn’t in any sort of rush. By now, the airline might have already unloaded his luggage into the baggage claim area, right before customs. Callum’s chest tightened at the thought of it sitting there unattended. Maybe he could text Lydia and ask her to keep an eye out for it?
“Entonces . . . bienvenido,” the officer said, stamping his passport.Welcome back.He slid the passport back to Callum, then waved him off.
Yeah, what a welcome.Costa Ricans, known asTicos,were known for their friendliness. This bloke had been anything but.
Callum stashed his passport in his bag, then hurried toward baggage claim.
He expected to find his bag still on the conveyor belt, probably the lone bag still left unclaimed.
What he didn’t expect? Lydia, standing by the baggage claim, crying.
A sick feeling crested in his stomach at the sight of her tearstained cheeks, and he pushed aside any of their history, striding up to her instead of looking for his bag.
“What happened? You okay?”
“No,” Lydia answered, shaking her head. “It’s gone. He?—”
Dark thoughts entered his mind as the image ofwhoshe was talking about swam in his memory. “What’s gone?”
“Elle’s wedding dress. Sergio stole it.”
ChapterFive
This can’t be happening.
Liddy blinked numbly as Callum stood beside her, talking to the customs agent. She hadn’t known he spoke Spanish, but it was proving to be a useful skill.
How could I have been so stupid?
She’d replayed the scene in her mind several times, trying to think straight. After getting through immigration, she’d had to use the restroom but had found nowhere to hang the dress. She’d even tried draping it across the top of the stall, but it had fallen ingloriously on the floor, which had made her nervous.