“Can I stay in my old room until I get an apartment? I’m thinking I might just save up for a townhouse at this point. I’m going to be single and have a dozen cats. What? No, I’m not going to ‘get back on the horse,’ Mother. God, I thought I didn’t have any tears left. What? No, I know Jeff never proposed, but when you live with someone for ayear, Mom, you—”
A silvery wrapper suddenly landed on his laptop. The woman beside him had pulled out a bag of chocolate and peppermint drops and was starting to cry as she dug into them.
I’m going to move.
“Sorry!” the woman mouthed, reaching over to get her wrapper.
“No, no, I got it—oh!”
He moved. She grabbed.
Her fingers hit the trackpad, and a half-finished email went soaring through cyberspace to one of his biggest clients.
“Sorry!” she yelped. “Hold on, Mom!”
“No, no, I got it. I have to be fast, but I can unsend,” Derrick hissed as he stood and snatched the computer back, breathing a sigh of relief when he was able to stop the errant email.
The woman stood beside him as well, releasing a shower of silvery candies to the ground.
“Whoa!” Someone wheeling a loaded baggage cart skidded to avoid stepping on them, and the rack of luggage tumbled down.
“I’ll get that,” the woman cried.
“Candy!”
“No, Brayden, no candy! No candy!”
Derrick gathered his things hastily. His quiet work area was now filled with two uniformed members of terminal staff, several people trying to pick up luggage and candy, several kids trying to get the candy, and frantic parents trying to corral them to prevent it.
“Mom? Are you still there? I’ll call you back.”
Dumpster. Fire. I wonder who she is? I think I’d remember anyone that chaotic in a town as small as Pine Ridge.
REESE BLEW HER NOSEon a cheap paper napkin and scrubbed at her eyes.
The napkin came away red. “Oh, my God!” She put a hand to her temple and then over her eyelid.Am I bleeding? How? Where? Did I cut myself? Scratch myself on the ‘promise’ ring Jeff gave me? Surprised he didn’t ask for it back. What sort of thirty-year-old man gives a woman a promise ring for their six-month anniversary? After six months, grown-ass people know.
Reese yanked her cell phone up to her face and stared into the camera.
“Oh, good.” No blood. Ketchup. She’d wiped her teary eyes with a ketchup-smeared napkin from the overpriced airport burger joint. Even the twenty-five dollar voucher from the nice clerk hadn’t paid for her dinner, with a fifteen-dollar burger, five-dollar soda, and eight-dollar fries.
“At least I can afford to live on my own in Pine Ridge,” she muttered, standing and pacing. Every seat in the terminal was full now. Kids were crying and fighting over iPads while their parents were talking eagerly about in-flight alcohol. Husbandsand wives were bickering and rooting through bags for gum and Immodium.
But they’re together. Everyone is flying with family, probably to go see more family. This was going to be my first Christmas without Mom and Dad—spending it with my boyfriend’s parents. A right of passage, right? Finally happening at thirty-two, lucky me.
Not.
Reese’s eyes strayed over to the man she’d sat next to earlier, the one still working away on his laptop. He had dark hair with bangs that kept falling over his glasses. Every few seconds he raised one hand in between steadily typing, brushed it back, and then returned his hand to the keys in perfect rhythm.
Probably keeping the beat with whatever Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole noise he’s got playing in his earbuds.
I think Mr. Workaholic and I are the only ones traveling alone. I wonder who he’s going to meet in Buffalo? Wife? Fianceé? Parents?
Another fall of bangs, another swoosh of hand—no ring.
No ring, huh? Well, some men won’t wear them.
Stop staring.