Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I couldn’t help but smile at how happy he was.
“Does your non-girlfriend know?” he asked as we pulled up in front of the departures drop-off point.
My stomach sank as I climbed out of the cab, shutting the front door, only to open the back one for my bags.
“You’ve told her, right?” The look on his face was equal parts judgment and worry. “Because from what I know about Izzy, she’s going to want some path forward, considering she just graduated law school.”
“I’ll tell her.” I shouldered my backpack and hefted my suitcase to the sidewalk.
“Where the hell does she think you’ve been for the past few months?”
A grimace crossed my face. “I didn’t really explain it.”
“But you’ve told her that you’re back.”
“I . . . sent her an email a couple weeks ago to make sure we were still on for the trip.” Everything I had to say to her needed to be said in person, which wasn’t an opportunity we’d had.
“You’re seriously going to get on that plane, hope she shows up at LAX, and then what . . . pray she didn’t get a boyfriend who can actually be around in the last six months?”
“Pretty much.” She’d said she was coming, but the email had been short, which I’d expected given the timing of her finals. Didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t in knots that she might have changed her mind. We’d both bought tickets in January, and I’d covered the resort, but the financial cost would be nothing compared to the blow of knowing I’d messed up our entire relationship because I hadn’t been able to keep my hands to myself six months ago.
“Right.” He pulled his sunglasses down and looked over the rims. “That whole we-live-in-a-gray-area thing you have going on is eventually biting you in the ass.”
“I know.” I sighed. “But until it does, I’m not messing with the only good thing I have in my life.”
“Don’t forget that you passed selection for Special Forces. That’s a pretty badass thing you have going for you.” He grinned back at me.
“Truth. We are pretty badass. Thanks for the ride.” I pulled my Saint Louis Blues cap down and shut his door.
Five hours later, I waited at the gate in Los Angeles for flight 4482 to Nandi, tapping my foot with more than a little nervous energy as the minutes counted down. I checked the boarding pass again and made sure I was at the right gate. I was.
Izzy wasn’t here.
I picked up my phone and debated calling, but knowing she wasn’t coming now as opposed to fifteen minutes from now wasn’t going to change anything. At least that was the lie I told myself. Fear turned my blood to ice.
Our emails had been shorter and shorter over the last few months.
Our phone calls had been nonexistent between the deployment and selection.
She had every right to change her mind, to date, to fall in love with someone else. God knew if she was mine, really, honestly mine, there was no way in hell I’d be comfortable with her flying off to Fiji with another man for a week.
Minutes ticked by, and the attendant told the people around me in their vacation clothes, an overabundance of flowered shirts and cargo shorts, to prepare to board.
They called passengers to preboard, and I stood, shifting my backpack to my shoulder as I surveyed everyone around me, looking for a flash of blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes.
Then the attendant called our group to board.
Holy fucking shit. This was actually happening.
There was still time, though, and Izzy wasn’t the kind of woman to stand someone up. She would have called. Written. Sent a carrier pigeon to tell me she was pissed or not coming.
I moved into line, scanned my ticket at the entrance to the gateway, and then walked down the jet bridge, my heart pounding with every step. By the time I found my seat, and hers empty next to it, the pounding had become a dull roar in my ears.
I took the seat next to the window because she’d never been comfortable there after the crash, and then I did the only thing I could—wait. Raising the shade on the window, I looked out over the tarmac and tried to find anything out there worth distracting myself with. When that didn’t work, I pulled out my copy of Catch-22 and a highlighter.
Was I supposed to get off? Go by myself? Fly straight to DC and beg her to talk to me?
The scent of Chanel wrapped around me like a lover, and I smiled.
“That was close,” she said, and my head whipped toward her. Those were the first words I’d ever spoken to her in a plane considerably smaller than this one. Izzy’s eyes were a little red and puffy, like she’d been crying but had stopped hours ago, and her smile was bright as she sank into her seat. “My flight was delayed out of DC.”