Just A Kiss Goodnight

Chapter One

Three in the morning and I am wide awake, jostled out of sleep by the tumbling gymnastics being performed in my womb. A stray kick nudges near my bladder and I know I'll shortly need a quick trip to pee, but for now I am content to lay on my side, right hand rubbing rhythmically over my belly in hopes of calming my little dynamo.

Just like your dad, I think to it, looking at the beautiful man beside me, his boundless energy stilled for recharge as he sleeps so soundly. Softly filtered moonlight caresses his features and I find my gaze doing the same, lingering lovingly over brow, cheekbones, lips and jawline. I sigh contentedly and allow myself a feather-light touch to reposition an unruly curl falling over his forehead as my mind is drawn back to the day we met.

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Oh, God, please don't let me miss this plane!

I was running down the concourse as fast as my legs would take me, my bag banging into my hips as I went. A few strange looks came my way, which didn't surprise me in the least. In my denim shorts, baggy Avengers t-shirt and Doc Martens, I knew I looked pretty scruffy. My hair was coming out of the side plait I had tamed it into and tendrils were sticking to my flushed face. Add to that I had been travelling for 12 hours already and was undoubtedly rather dishevelled and weary looking. I paid them no attention and just kept running to make the gate before the flight closed.

Gate 22! Gate 23! Almost there. Get a move on, Sullivan!

I had been scheduled to leave Taiohae, the capital of the volcanic Marquesas Islands - one of the administrative divisions of French Polynesia - early this morning on my first flight to Tahiti, in the Society Islands. Unfortunately a slight mechanical malfunction had delayed the two-hour flight, meaning I missed my connecting flight from Tahiti to LA. Although the next available plane left only a couple of hours later, it meant the time I had until my onward leg to London was cut to a mere 30 minutes and had resulted in this wild race through LAX.

Gate 25! Yes! Are they still boarding? Please, please, please, let them still be boarding!

I was in luck, a few passengers were still straggling forward, digging out their boarding passes and juggling bags, coats, parcels and documents. Making sure I had everything I needed in my hand, I thrust everything else away in my bag, breathed a deep sigh of relief and presented myself to the attendant awaiting our departure. The airline employee gave me an all-encompassing once-over when I handed over my boarding pass and I knew I didn't look like your regular First Class passenger. Cut me some slack buster, I thought, I've been building schools in the tropics for three months! Chanel just doesn't cut it when you're hammering in nails and painting walls!

Finally I was walking down the air bridge and on to the British Airways A380. The door was closing behind me as I was shown to the Upper Deck and my seat by an obsequious blonde and I noticed from the corner of my eye that there were only two other passengers in this section - a woman across the aisle and a couple of rows back, and a guy in the row right behind me. Taking a book, reading glasses, iPod and headphones out of my bag before stashing it, I settled comfortably in my seat and briefly closed my eyes at the thought that I was finally on the last leg of my journey. In ten and a half hours I would be back in London. Home.

Little did I know that in those ten and a half hours, my life would be changed forever.