Lessons Learned, Healing Hearts

Out of Our Control (Chapter 1)

Mark checked his watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. He let out a long breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he paced the arrivals area of Vancouver International Airport. It had been three long hours since he last received an update from his daughter. Three hours of silence that gnawed at his nerves.

No news is good news, he repeated in his head, gripping the handle of his briefcase a little too tightly. It was a mantra he had lived by for years, but tonight, it felt hollow.

Through the large glass window, he spotted a chartered plane taxiing toward the terminal. He straightened, gathering his paperwork, and stepped closer to the window. Please let this be them. The late-spring snowstorm that had disrupted flights across the East Coast was an unavoidable setback, but he was still irritated by the delay.

The aircraft door finally opened, and the first passengers emerged. Watching an older man with silver hair, followed closely by a dark-haired woman, descend the steps, Mark exhaled sharply, muttering a quiet curse under his breath. Not them. He was about to turn away when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A younger man, followed by two more, stepped into view, their exhaustion visible even from a distance.

Mark took a deep breath and strode forward. "Mr. Torpedine?" he called out as the older man and woman passed through the sliding doors first.

The older man nodded. "Yes."

"Welcome to Vancouver. I'm Mark Thornton. I'll be escorting you to your hotel." He shook Michele's hand firmly before glancing at the others. "Is this everyone?"

"Yes."

"Great. Follow me."

As they made their way through the quiet terminal, Mark attempted to fill the silence. "I hear you had quite the journey."

The three younger men grunted and scoffed, their tired expressions speaking volumes. Michele gave a small, knowing smile.

"Yes, it's taken twenty-six hours, but we made it," one of them said.

Mark chuckled. "Well, the good news is, we're expecting beautiful weather for the next two weeks, so you can probably pack away those heavy coats."

Once outside, the crisp Vancouver air hit them. Mark helped load the luggage into the vehicle, stealing a closer glance at the trio. Despite their unshaven faces and travel-worn clothes, their good looks were unmistakable. Hard to believe they'd already been in the entertainment industry for over a decade.

The drive was quiet. The city lights cast a soft glow over the wet pavement. Just as they crossed the river, Mark's Apple Watch buzzed. Glancing at his wrist, he read, It's time to come home, Dad.

His stomach clenched.

"Is everything okay?" Michele's voice was calm but observant.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a nod. "It will be," he lied.

Minutes later, Mark pulled up to the hotel. Grabbing his carry-on from the trunk, he tossed it onto the front seat. Helping to unload the last of the bags, he turned to Michele, lowering his voice. "Mr. Torpedine, may I have a word?"

Michele nodded and stepped aside with him.

"I wanted to inform you that I won't be continuing as your chauffeur. But rest assured, you'll be well looked after."

Michele's brow furrowed. "I hope everything is all right?"

Mark forced a tight-lipped smile, the lump in his throat growing unbearable. "Just a family matter. Thank you for understanding. I hope you enjoy your time here."

Mark shook Michele's hand one last time, then hurried back to the airport.

***

Piero barely made it to his hotel room before collapsing onto the bed. Their trip to Vancouver was supposed to be exciting—two new projects, fresh opportunities—but the never-ending complications of their journey had drained every bit of enthusiasm from him. He yanked off his glasses and exhaled deeply, resting an arm over his face.

It had been a rough eight months. All three of them had gone through breakups, but his was the freshest, barely five weeks old. The wound still stung in his heart.

Out of habit, he thumbed through the photos on his phone. Although he had deleted most photos of his ex, there were a few that he still wasn't ready to get rid of. Stopping at one of them, a half-smile curled the corner of his mouth. He and Giulia were leaning against his car, laughing. Their smiles revealed no hint of what would inevitably unfold only a couple of days later.

Giulia had been a whirlwind of passion, intoxicating and thrilling. However, five months into the relationship, Piero's excitement had turned to exhaustion. The endless arguments, the manipulation; he had ignored the warning signs for too long. The breaking point came during lunch with his bandmates when she turned her fiery temper on Barbara, and he had had enough.

Apologizing to his friends, Piero seized her by the arm and ushered her out of the restaurant. Once outside, their voices rose above the city noise, and she stormed off. But not without first uttering a final, smug declaration: "You'll want me back."

Three days later, his sister dropped an issue of OGGI magazine in front of him; the headline reading Piero says, "That's it! We're finished." Shoving the magazine aside and rubbing his hands over his face in frustration, he snapped at his sister.

"Why do you buy this magazine? You know most of what they say isn't true."

"I know, but I can't help it," Maria Grazia admitted with a sheepish shrug. Then, more seriously, "Is it true? Are you two really done?"

He nodded.

"Are you okay?"

"I will be."

"I'm sorry," Maria Grazia said, hugging her brother's neck.

"Thank you." Gripping his sister's face in both hands, Piero squeezed her cheeks and cautioned, "Just remember, a gossip magazine is just that—gossip."

Now, in the quiet of his hotel room, the past felt far away, yet painfully close. A distant ship's horn pulled him from his thoughts, and he deleted the remaining two photos. Wandering to the window, he pulled the sheer curtain aside. The Vancouver skyline stretched before him; the harbour dotted with boats bobbing in the waves caused by other vessels coming home. Distant mountains framed the last remnants of daylight that refused to surrender to the night.

No matter where in the world he was, a sunset was always beautiful to behold.

Retreating to the bathroom, he flipped on the light. Yes!

A deep soaking tub sat in the corner. Within minutes, hot water and steam filled the room. Slipping into the bath, he exhaled as the heat soothed his tired muscles. Finally, something was going right.

***

The next morning, Piero sat at breakfast, absentmindedly pushing granola around in his bowl. The conversation around him barely registered until Ignazio bumped Piero's arm.

"It seems the driver you met yesterday will not be driving us around for the rest of our time here," Michele announced. "He informed me last night that someone else would take over."

"Do we know who?" Gianluca asked.

"No, but I was assured there would be no delays or changes to our itinerary. The company already has our schedule, so turn up at the lobby in half an hour."

Piero silently cursed, pushing his bowl away. More disruptions, terrible weather, cancelled plans, and exhausting detours had already plagued the trip. Now, even their driver was a mystery. He sighed. He desperately needed something uplifting and exciting.