Freya
belly, I gave her an awkward but affectionate hug. Her straight strawberry-blonde bob tickled my nose. “You call me if you need anything, okay?” I murmured against her ear, hating that I had to leave her, leave them, like this.
She nodded as we came apart, unshed tears welling up in her light brown eyes. Three-year-old Connor lifted his arms, beckoning to be picked up. I watched her hoist him up onto her hip with a grunt, his leg draped nonchalantly over his little brother or sister.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassured her, knowing full well that they were just words and we’d both just entered a giant storm. All she could do was continue to nod. “I’ve got to go. My cab is here.” I lunged forward and gave her one more quick hug and a peck on the side of her head, along with one on Connor’s cheek. His big baby blues blinked at me with open curiosity. Then with a smile and wave, I was out the door.
“The airport, please,” I said to the cab driver as I met him on the curb. He loaded my suitcase in the trunk and I climbed into the back.
What a weird week, was all I could think as we drove in silence the thirty minutes to the airport. I know I should have been chattier with the taxi driver, and normally I am, but my mind was racing after the whirlwind week I’d just had meeting Stacey and Connor.
Never in a million years would I have thought that Stacey and I would have become friends, especially given the way we were thrust into each other’s lives. Yet, there I was, leaving her home after a week getting to know her and her son, having arrived as a stranger, almost an enemy or a rival, and leaving as something I could only describe as akin to family. And in some weird convoluted way, we kind of were.
“We’re here, Miss,” the driver announced. I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that the last half hour just flew by. I paid him, grabbed my suitcase and rolled through the doors and up to the front desk.
I was just about to head through security when it hit me like a baseball to the face that I’d forgot to grab my father his favorite maple candy from the gift shop. He wouldn’t know if I’d forgotten to buy them, but I would, and it’d been a tradition for nearly thirty years. I couldn’t break it now. Finally, after about four different gift shops, I spotted a tiny box of the sweet little treasures and nearly had a stroke when I turned it over and saw the price. Airports are such a rip-off. But I bought them anyway, and that’s when I heard the announcement.
“This is the final boarding call for Flight 173 to Victoria.”
How the heck did I not hear the first, second and third boarding calls? Was I really that far off in la-la-land? I hurriedly paid for my overpriced candy and then started running.
“Hi!” I grinned, a tad out of breath but not too bad, silently saying a small thank-you to myself for getting to the gym as often as I do. I hadn’t even broken a sweat. “So sorry I’m late. I didn’t even hear your previous calls. I was across the airport at the gift shop. Thank you so much for waiting. I apologize again.”
“It’s fine.” The woman smiled politely, though the irritation in her tone was clearly detectable. I decided to kill her with kindness instead of stoop to her level.
“I’ll be sure to write a glowing review of the airline when I get home. And make special mention of,” I leaned forward to read her name tag, “you, Maria, and how helpful you’ve been. I really do appreciate you being so understanding.”
Her face transformed, and this time the smile reached her eyes. “Not at all. Have a wonderful flight, Miss Lapierre.”
“Thank you.”
I continued to speed-walk down the jet bridge, loathing the idea of being that one person holding up the flight for the other hundred or so passengers. I mentally prepared myself for a slew of glares and plastered on a big, apologetic smile.
Oh, thank goodness, I’m not the only Last-Minute Lucy.
I saw the back of a very tall man as he lazily made his way toward the plane doors. He must have heard me, because he spun around, and that’s when everything in my arms decided to plummet to the ground, making a godawful racket and delaying our flight even further. Hastily, I bent down to pick up my purse and candy, berating myself and my clumsiness, only my fellow tardy passenger must have attempted to do the same, and the back of my head bashed him in the chin.
“Ouch!”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I stammered, my own head a little sore. Dad always said I had the hardest Irish head he’s ever seen. I brushed my untameable mop out of my face only to look up into the face of a very handsome young man. I’d say twenty-five, maybe. With eyes the same color as the ocean on the postcards people send you from tropical havens like Barbados and Aruba. Messy brown hair brushing just over his ears and high-cut rosy cheeks, burning bright when I asked him if he’s okay. Combined with an intoxicating scent of fresh linen and just a hint of—was that cinnamon?—and the guy was practically perfect.
He blinked for a couple of seconds. “Uh, yeah.” Then rubbed his chin, his stubble making a raspy sound against his hand. “How’s your head?” I watched as his eyes raked my body from head to toe, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Fine,” I replied and then immediately looked down at my feet. “Thanks.” Something about him was flustering me. I hoped we weren’t sitting together. Who smells like cinnamon? Was that his natural smell, or was it in his body wash? I shook my head to dislodge the cinnamon-scented cobwebs and blinked a couple of times. Meanwhile Handsome Harry or whatever his name was continued to stare at me.
“Sir, Miss, could you please board the plane?” the flight attendant interrupted.
She’s very pretty. I wish I was able to do my eye makeup like that. And she’s so little. Men love short and tiny women.
“Oh, sorry,” we both say. He let me go ahead of him, but the entire time I led us down the aisle I could feel his eyes on me, past all the annoyed glares from the other passengers who were forced to wait for us.
“I’m right here,” I whispered, stopping at row seventeen and scrunching in so he could hopefully move past.
He looked down at his boarding pass again and grinned. “Looks like I am too!”