Page 128 of Mark my Words

“Unfortunately, it looks like we’ll be waiting a little longer. The good news is they’ve started letting planes take off now, but we’re twentieth in line, and one runway is still shut down.”

Kristine: On the plane, 20th in line for takeoff.

She sent back a cringing emoji, and I sighed as I leaned back into my seat, glaring at the blurry lights outside the window. This whole grand gesture thing was turning out to be a nightmare. The heroes in Chase’s books made it look much easier than reality.

Becca: Rental car will be ready when you get here. Keith went to get it for you before they closed. Keys are behind the visor. We’ll meet you at the hotel.

Sam’s oldest sister sent a picture of a nondescript red sedan and the license plate number.

Kristine: Won’t someone steal it?

Becca: Welcome to the Midwest. It’ll be fine for a few hours. Can’t wait to meet you. Although I’m sure it might have to wait once my brother steals you away.

I wasn’t so sure it would still be there once I finally arrived, but I had to believe that something would eventually go my way today. With all the delays, I felt like maybe karma was finally catching up with me.

Sam’s sisters had come together with Chase and Kelly to help me pull this plan off, but I was still nervous. Chase had given me a pep talk about believing in love and jumping in with both feet on the way to the airport this morning. She told me I’d know what to say to him when I got there...if I ever got there.

Thankfully, the weather had cleared up when my flight eventually landed. I’d quickly—awkwardly in the confines of a tiny airport bathroom stall—changed into the figure-hugging black dress and heels I’d picked out last night, and found my midsize rental car in the parking lot. The keys had been tucked into the visor along with a key card to the hotel room Kelly had booked for me.

The address was already plugged into the navigation app on my phone; my luggage was in the back seat and, thankfully, hadn’t been lost despite the delays. I was ready to go.

Firing off texts to Becca, Chase, and Kelly that I’d finally arrived, I threw my phone into the passenger seat and started the four-mile journey toward taking back control of my future.

SAM

CLIMAX, MI

“You two need to go back upstairs. Uncle Sam is sleeping,” my sister’s voice hissed as I blindly reached for my glasses on the end table next to the pull-out couch.

“He’s not asleep now,” a little voice giggled as a solid weight settled across my legs.

“Yeah, Uncle Sam’s awake. He wants us down here!” yelled another.

“Uncle Sam was asleep,” I yawned, sitting up and wrapping my arms around the two little giggling boys perched on the end of the mattress. “But now the tickle monster is awake!”

They both squealed, trying to get out of the cage of my arms, seemingly stronger than they’d been since the last time I did this. Or maybe I hadn’t been working out in the last few months and had gotten weaker. Whichever it was, the tickle monster was soon vanquished, and I was being attacked by two determined little six-year-olds who were surprisingly agile.

“Okay! Okay! Truce!” I laughed as I tried to pull a pillow over my head. “Quit! No more kidney shots!”

“Never!” They squealed as they both jumped onto my back, and one of the twins tried to put me in a headlock.

“Alexander! Let go of Sam, right now!” my sister, Claire, shouted, her mom voice eerily reminiscent of the way our mother sounded in our childhood.

“Moooom,” my nephew whined as his little arms dropped before he scrambled across the mattress and hopped to his feet beside Felix. Alex always took things a little too far, and I knew my sister had difficulty reining in his energy. For all that Felix was like my mini-me, often referred to in our family as Little Sam, Alex was all his father. This was probably why he was my sister’s favorite despite all the gray hairs he would inevitably cause as he got older. Felix was the dutiful rule follower with a sweet disposition, and Alex was a wild child with absolutely no impulse control.

“No,” she said, pointing up the stairs. “You two, get back upstairs and finish your breakfast. You know there’s no roughhousing until after you’ve cleaned up after yourselves, and grandma would kill you if you broke anything down here.”

“Fine,” they pouted, their dark little heads of messy hair hung low as they trudged up the stairs into the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Claire cringed as she wiped her hands off on a dishtowel and sat on the corner of the mattress of the pull-out couch that was my bed for the weekend. “They snuck off when I let Paisley back in from the backyard. Dad’s watching a war movie with Brad in the family room; you know those two are worthless as babysitters. They’re more likely to encourage the mayhem than they are to stop it.”

“It’s fine. I should probably get up anyway. I just wasn’t expecting quite the exuberant wake-up call.”

“I still don’t understand why you canceled your room,” she laughed. “Staying on Mom and Dad’s pull-out couch isn’t exactly comfortable. Aren’t they paying you well with your new fancy job?”

“I didn’t see the point in driving an extra twenty-five minutes there and back when I’d be here anyway. It’s not like I haven’t slept on this couch every time I’ve visited since college. Mom turned my room into the boys’ bunkhouse. At least I fit on this mattress. The bottom bunk isn’t exactly designed for people over five feet tall.”

When I’d gone off to college, my mom used her empty nesting energy to remodel the house. My sister’s bedrooms had been converted to an office, a home gym, a sewing room, and a guest bedroom. Mine had been initially converted to a nursery for her grandkids, but now it was wall-to-wall bunk beds for when my nephews spent the night.

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