Two

Claire’s pulse hadn’t calmed down until she was in the hotel room the airline had provided her for the next 24 hours. During the long walk to the counter, her senses had been tuned in like a prey animal on the savannah, seeking out potential threats. Was a lion about to appear out of nowhere and claim her delicious prize for itself? Did she need to walk a little faster—or run, even—to get to the counter before all the other people about to offer to take the next flight home?

But in the end it was only Claire—and the same man she had seen speaking with the airline staff earlier—standing in front of the counter. Her heart was still racing as he stepped up and had a conversation she couldn’t hear. Maybe he wasn’t traveling alone after all, and he and his companion were happy to stay in a hotel until the same time the next day. Maybe Claire was just standing there like a fool, about to be sent back to her seat, denied the adventure that she suddenly felt sure she needed in her life.

A second airline employee stepped up to the counter, beckoning Claire forward with a smile and a nod of her head. As she slid into place next to the man, he turned in her direction, a frown on his face as he gave her a quick once-over and then resumed his conversation with the woman behind the counter.

Claire scoffed at the man’s rudeness, pointedly ignoring him as she put on a smile and stepped forward, greeting the counter agent who was waiting for her with a smile of her own.

“Hi,” Claire said with a small nod. “I’d like to take the offer to fly tomorrow, if it’s still available.”

The agent’s smile got even wider. “That’s wonderful.” She turned to her colleague, who was still helping the man. “Charlotte, we have a second volunteer. Let’s get these two rebooked for tomorrow and then on a shuttle to Holiday Hotel as soon as possible.”

While the two women behind the counter tapped away at their keyboards, Claire chanced a glance at the man next to her. He was looking at his phone, a frown on his face, as his fingers flew over its screen. His body language, combined with the way he had looked her over—had that been disdain on his face?—were enough for her to size him up, assign him an archetype as if he were a character in one of her books. He was clearly the self-important, work obsessed businessman. He was dressed casually enough to almost make her doubt herself, but the way he was glued to his phone practically screamed “circle back touch base follow up leverage the synergy” Bro-speak. Claire barely suppressed a shiver. This was the last person she wanted to be stranded with for the next 24 hours—or not the last maybe, since dictators and serial killers existed. If fate or the hotel staff tried to play matchmaker and she heard the words “only one bed,” she’d be out on the street, thumb in the air, hitchhiking her way back to New Jersey.

“Alright then, here you are.” The smiling woman behind the counter handed Claire one paper after the other as she continued speaking. “Here is your boarding pass for tomorrow’s flight. Here are meal vouchers that work at any restaurant in the airport. We will take both of you to the hotel in a shuttle to get you checked in. You also have the option of eating your meals at the hotel in their restaurant, which is complimentary as well. And here is a form for you to fill out to get your 800 euro payment. We’ll just need your bank details and then the money will be wired to you.” She gave a rueful smile. “On behalf of the airline, we are truly sorry for the inconvenience, and we greatly appreciate your willingness to accommodate us today.”

“Of course,” said Claire. “It’s an adventure, isn’t it?” She held up the papers in her hand. “And it’s not as if I’m suffering. You’ve certainly made up for any inconvenience.”

The friendly women behind the counter directed Claire and the man to a bank of empty seats at the next gate over, with instructions to wait there for their shuttle to the Holiday Hotel. When they were seated, the man still tapping away on his phone’s screen, Claire pulled out her own phone to send a few messages as well, letting her family and Bianca know that her plans had changed. She texted Emma, too, the only person likely to respond this early in the day given that she was in Ireland and not on the east coast of the United States.

“So, the airline just did one of those ‘we need two people to take the next flight out tomorrow in exchange for a hotel room and some cash’ and…guess who’s spending the day in Munich?”

Emma sent back three dots and an unimpressed emoji. Then: “You didn’t. Of course, if you didn’t, then I don’t care who did. Was it seriously you? And what are you going to do with the extra time? I thought you were dying to get home? It’s too early for you to confuse me this much, Claire.”

Claire glanced at the time at the top of her phone. It wasn’t that early in Ireland, but if Emma and Connor had been up late making googly eyes at each other like they always did when she was around, she supposed her friend might have preferred sleeping in.

“Sorry for the wake-up text, then.” She hesitated, not wanting to unleash her financial concerns on her best friend. After all, it wasn’t Emma’s problem to solve, so why should she be bothered by it at all?

“The adventure of it all was a little bit exciting, I guess. And there’s nothing wrong with a little extra cash.”

“Who’s the other person?” Emma asked.

Claire rolled her eyes, glancing again at the man who was still glued to his phone. “Some dude. Tech Bro, if I had to guess, considering that he hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone once.”

“You have my sincere condolences.” Emma knew all too well what people in the tech industry were like, having been the founder of a social media app herself before trading in that lifestyle and relocating to the western coast of Ireland. That was the kind of crazy thing that people did for love, Emma and Connor acting like two characters in one of Claire’s stories.

Not that Claire’s stories were inspired by her own experience. Since her last relationship ended, she’d been insisting to herself, her mother, and anyone who asked about her “ticking biological clock” that she was more than content focusing on her career. And it was actually the truth. Claire didn’t feel her ovaries twinge at the sight of a cute baby, didn’t wipe a tear from her eyes over tiny baby shoes. And she did feel genuine joy and pride at seeing her books stocked on shelves the world over, at picking up a translation in a language she couldn’t speak. And even though every time she started a new writing project, she had to go (again) through the journey of convincing herself that she did in fact know how to write, that her first draft was allowed to be terrible, and that she hadn’t forgotten everything she ever knew about the craft of telling a story…she loved what she did.

The only problem, the only tiny hiccup in all of it, was that she did miss having someone. A special someone who was there when she came home, who was a warmer and chattier companion than her laptop and her notebooks and her own imagination.

Not that Eric, her ex, had been better company than being alone. All men are not created equal, Claire thought to herself. A warm body is not the only requirement, even if it is cuffing season. Maybe she should adopt a cat.

From the seat next to her, a voice cleared. She set her phone in her lap as she turned, surprised to find the man—her companion on this 24-hour adventure—looking at her with a rueful smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” he said, having the decency to actually look apologetic, even a bit humbled. “It’s just…I was so distracted while all this was happening that I think I zoned out and missed the plan. We’re waiting here for…?”

Claire shook her head, scoffing softly. “It’s okay. I’m sure you were busy with something really important, right?” She nodded towards his phone. “Let me guess, you’re performing surgery right now. It’s some new technology that you can control remotely from anywhere in the world.” Now her imagination was getting away from her, imagining a device and wishing she wrote futuristic or dystopian fiction. “But what happens if there’s a smudge on your screen and you go to wipe it off and end up severing a major artery…” She shook her head. “Sorry, train of thought got away from me there.” She tipped her head in the direction of the counter, where the flight crew were now beginning to board the plane. “They told us to wait here for the shuttle. Though I can’t imagine an actual shuttle is going to drive right through the terminal.” She shrugged. “I’m sure they won’t forget about us.” She looked meaning fully at his phone, still clutched in his hand. “You can get back to your surgery. I won’t let the shuttle leave without you.”

The man was blushing now. “It’s not…I’m not…”

“Not really doing surgery on your phone? It was a joke, but not a very good one. Don’t worry about it. As you were, soldier.”

Claire turned her attention back to her phone, aware that in her peripheral vision, the man was still looking at her, his mouth still agape.

It was a short drive to the hotel, but Claire was pleasantly surprised not to be staying at a true airport hotel, just walking distance from the terminal. Instead, Holiday Hotel was nestled right in the city center, walking distance from plenty of places to explore if she kept feeling adventurous.

Her companion had finally tucked his phone away in his bag and was looking out the window, showing interest in his surroundings for the first time since Claire had laid eyes on him. The way his gaze was trained out the window, the way he shifted in his seat to get a clearer view…there was something almost childlike about his curiosity. And if he hadn’t spent the last 40 minutes glued to his phone like he was remotely diffusing a nuclear bomb, then she might be charmed enough by his behavior to at least initiate a conversation.

As focused as he was on the journey, she took a moment to study him. If she didn’t know that he was the worst variety of bros, the Tech Bro, then she could appreciate that he was a handsome man. He was tall, and he had the kind of confidence and comfort in his own skin that might come from the ego of knowing that his latest app update was “going to change the world,” but it still suited him. His dark jeans, button-down shirt, and even his shoes and his bag fit him—and fit with each other—as perfectly as a well-tailored suit might on a different man.

So, Claire thought, making a snap judgment, either someone else is dressing him or he’s an egomaniac. Either way, good for him.

He turned to her then, as if he had felt her gaze on his back, smiling as their eyes met. It was a good smile, too, the first genuine one she had seen on his face.

“I’m Jack Holloway,” he said. “Probably should have introduced myself by now, but I’ve been a little distracted, I guess. What’s your name?”

“It’s okay,” she replied, her own smile surprising herself with how natural, how genuine it felt. “I’m Claire. I hope you’ve put out whatever fires were keeping you so busy and you’re ready to enjoy an extra day in Munich.”

“I’ve never actually been here,” said Jack. “I was just flying through from Krakow. It’ll be nice to explore a new city though, I suppose. Any recommendations?”

Claire shook her head. “Oh, I barely know anything about Munich. I’ve seen the inside of a hotel room, a bookstore or two, and that’s about it.”

The corners of Jack’s lips dipped in an upside down smile. “That is…” He shook his head. “No, I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t sound like how anyone would spend a vacation, but it doesn’t sound like a work trip, either…”

Claire raised her eyebrows.

“So it is a work trip?” Jack asked. “You do something with books, then. And it probably isn’t international quality control, where you travel from city to city making sure everyone’s got their genres straight and hasn’t messed up alphabetical order.”

That got a laugh out of Claire. “Believe it or not, I don’t think that’s anyone’s job description.”

He studied her a moment longer, his eyes traveling over her face until he lifted a finger, an expression of success flashing across his face. “Are you Claire Davis?”

Claire’s jaw dropped open. “How in the world would you know that? You aren’t exactly the target audience for my books.”

Jack smiled. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen probably every single paperback you’ve ever written.” He glanced at his phone and shrugged. “And I’ve picked a few up, read the blurb on the back, glanced at the author photo—that’s why you looked familiar.”

“But you’ve never read one?”

Jack gave a firm shake of his head. “Under pain of death, no.”

Claire laughed again. “Jack, is someone threatening you? You can tell me. I’ll get you help.”

He smiled. “It’s just a difference in reading styles. The copies of your books, they’re all in Hazel’s—that’s my sister—library.”

Claire gave an encouraging nod. “Go on…”

Jack gulped. “Well, you know…Hazel loves her books. Keeps them pristine. Uses those little tab thingies to mark the passages she really likes. Posts everything all over Instagram.”

“I know the type.” Claire smiled. She loved to see reader annotations of her words, had a feeling she would really like Hazel. “Does she not want you to read them because you’ll mess up the tabs? Or because it’s just too personal to see what she has highlighted?”

Jack rubbed his neck, his eyes not meeting hers. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.” He gulped once, then looked up. “I break the spines.”

Claire recoiled in mock horror. “Of humans? Or of books?”

Jack chuckled softly. “Only of books. But the way Hazel reacted the last time she saw me do it, you’d think it was the equivalent of murder.”

“I see,” said Claire, a finger rising to stroke her chin in exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I suppose you dog ear the pages, too?”

Jack gave a guilty shrug. “I’m not often carrying a bookmark with me, so…”

She held up a hand to stop him from speaking further. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to side with Hazel on this one, Jack. I don’t think you should be sentenced to lifelong deprivation from reading my books, but I do think you should keep your hands off Hazel’s copies. If she took revenge on you for damaging her collection, there’s not a court in all of Bookstagram that would find her guilty.”

Jack closed his eyes for just a moment, shaking his head as he chuckled softly. When he opened his eyes again, he lifted his phone, tipping his head towards it. “I should tell Hazel about this conversation. It will make her day, be just what she needs to turn it all around.” He looked hesitant as he met Claire’s eyes. “Would you mind taking a selfie with me? I just don’t think she’d ever believe I met you without some evidence.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Claire said with a nod. She patted the seat next to her. “No problem, let’s take one.”

Jack slipped across the shuttle’s aisle and into the seat next to her before the driver could notice anything amiss. 

Claire leaned into his side to fit both of their faces into the small screen of his phone, aware at once of how sturdy he felt, how good he smelled, and how piercing his green eyes were on the phone screen that was facing her. They both smiled, but while Jack was aiming his smile at the camera at the top of the screen, she was studying him. What kind of man was familiar enough with the world of romance novels to even recognize her face? What kind of man went out of his way to send a selfie with a stranger to his sister?

She blinked once, slowly, hearing the thoughts that were cycling through her mind. Were her expectations of men so low that anything Jack had done in the last 10 minutes qualified him to win some kind of award?

Still, though, she had a better impression of him now than she had had back at the airport. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad—and might even be fun—to be stuck as him with her companion for the next 24 hours.

He thanked her for the selfie, slipped back to his original seat, and began typing on his phone again, his expression the same as it had been when she had first seen him.

When he finally dropped his phone to his lap again, the darker expression that had crossed his face while typing evaporating, Claire spoke. “I have to say, it’s rare that I meet a fan—or I should say, the sibling of a fan—out and about in the real world. I don’t exactly get recognized a lot.”

Jack was looking at her in disbelief. “First of all, even if I haven’t read your work yet—through no fault of my own, I might add—”

Claire interrupted him. “I’m sure your sister would disagree. Spine breaking is a serious offense to her people.”

“You’re right.” Jack nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “And I know what I have to do. Get my own copies. Don’t leave such an important thing up to the whims of Hazel.”

“Break the spines to your heart’s content. Dog ear a few pages.” Claire shrugged. “Maybe spill a whole cup of coffee on it.”

“Now you’re talking.” Jack’s smile shrank. “But in all seriousness, even without reading a word yet, I’m a fan. Have been for quite some time, actually.”

Claire knew her face betrayed her confusion. How could it not? What he was saying didn’t make any sense.

“It’s about my sister,” Jack explained. “And what your books have done for her.”