Page 74 of Burn
I’d prefer to think of it as blending in, which is exactly what I want right now. I board the private jet a half hour after Max. Even on board we keep our hands to ourselves and act professional, each tapping on our laptops from opposite sides of the aircraft—who knows if the gossip press is paying the flight attendants to keep tabs on Max.
When we land in Miami, I murmur a discreet good-bye to Max and climb into a chauffeured car to go to the hospital in downtown Miami, where my father’s still recovering from his surgery. Max has arranged to do a meet and greet with a Down syndrome group, so he’s in a separate SUV.
At the hospital I find Papa and Mum doing what they do best: bickering.
“I will not leave this hospital and get you a milk shake. Absolutely not. Drink your green juice, Adrian.” Mum pushes a bottle of something that looks like liquid grass toward him.
“Hey, kids,” I say, leaning down to kiss my father on the forehead.
“Thank god you’re here. Your mother’s trying to kill me.”
“He’s impossible, Lily. Look at him.” My mother, who is wearing some sort of pink gauzy duster over an all-white getup of leggings and a tank top, gestures with an arm adorned with bangles.
“Good to see you two getting along as usual.”
“We’re fine,” Mum says, brushing me off as she always does.
Papa grabs my hand and I study his face. “You look like a whole new man. When do you get to leave? Have you reconsidered going home to New York?”
“The doctors say soon. Your mother and I are still planning on staying at your place.”
“Okay. Don’t let Mum kill the plants. The last time she stayed in my place she massacred twoMonsteraplants.”
A pang of homesickness goes through me, thinking about all of my green friends at home. I’d been trying to cultivate a peaceful life out of the spotlight after I was fired from my job. Now I’m sneaking around the world with Max and letting my little plant babies fend for themselves.
“Lily? Lily!” Mum waves her arm, the bangles jingling.
She startles me out of my thoughts, and I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m a bit exhausted from—”
From getting railed by our team’s star driver all night. “—from all the excitement of our recent win.”
Papa’s eyes twinkle. We talk about the race for a while, and when his nurse comes in for a round of checks, he introduces me as his protégé.
“She’s the reason the team won in Las Vegas,” he says.
“No, not really,” I say, but I’m inwardly glowing at all his praise. It feels like it’s the first time someone has acknowledged that I’ve done a good job at anything in years; back when I was in tech, it seemed that nothing I did was ever good enough.
“I’m going to need to borrow your father for a few final tests,” the nurse says.
“No worries,” Mum chirps. “My daughter and I will grab lunch.”
Papa looks at her, pleading.
“No milk shakes for you, mister.” She taps him on the nose like he’s a dog, and I shake my head. Sometimes they’re adorable, sometimes they’re annoying. Today’s one of the adorable days, at least right now.
Mum and I wander out of the room and head to the cafeteria. After the intense crush of press in Austin, it’s a relief to be back in the real world. We grab salads—and fries—and head to a table. It’s next to a window overlooking a courtyard bursting with tropical foliage, and this makes me miss my condo all the more.
How I wish Max and I could hole up at my place for a few days.
“Did you change your skincare routine?” Mum stares at me.
“No. I don’t have a skincare routine.” I know what she’s getting at, and I’m playing along by being coy. I swipe a fry and chew, pretending not to pay attention to her.
She makes atsksound with her tongue. “Then what is it? You look luminous. Oh wait. Lily.” Her hand flies to her chest. “It’s Max, isn’t it?”
“Mum,” I whine, suddenly morphing into a hormonal sixteen-year-old. She leans in and I lower my voice. Although I’m not sure why because no one is paying attention to us and the din of the cafeteria is a dull roar. “We spent the night together last night. Well, the past several nights, actually. Since Austin. And we had a fight but made up. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
She tilts her head and a little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. I expect her to say something, but she doesn’t.