Page 171 of From Now On

Hunter grins. It’s the widest smile I’ve ever seen him wear. “You love me?”

I nod. “Somuch.”

“Hey, Morgan! You guys in for burritos?” Aidan shouts.

Hunter sighs. “Phillips always knows how to make a moment more romantic.”

I laugh. “Is he talking about that Mexican place you guys always go to?”

“Probably. I’m surprised they’re still open. They must be doing special hours for graduation.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You wanna go?”

“Yeah. As long as we can go to Holey Moley for donuts later. They’re open until three a.m. on Saturdays.”

“We can do whatever you want,” Hunter says, picking up the box with his painting inside like it’s made of glass.

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder.

And we walk, hand in hand, back to where our friends and his brother are waiting by the cars.

And I decide that Hunter was right.

All the best stuff is still ahead.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

EVE

FOUR YEARS LATER

My lip gloss falls out of my bag and onto the seat, promptly followed by a pack of gum. I curse under my breath as I continue rifling through the tote’s contents, desperately trying to find my headphones. I’mpositiveI put them in here, and the three-hour flight to Atlanta is going to feel a lot longer if I can’t listen to the latestC is for Crimeepisode I downloaded.

“Excuse me, miss?”

“One second,” I say, digging deeper. Thatalmostfelt like the rubber coating of a wire. I can’t use the ones without a wire without losing one.

The plane’s loudspeaker crackles to life, preparing for some announcement, and my fingers finally close around an ear bud.

I pull the headphones out of my bag triumphantly, then glance up. There’s a line of several scowling passengers standing in the aisle that I trace to my row. Specifically, to the tall figure waiting for me to move so he can take the seat I’m blocking.

“Oh, sorry—oh my God.”

I forget about my headphones—and my bag, which topples to the floor—as I leap up and throw my arms around Hunter.

He grunts when our bodies collide, apparently not expecting such an enthusiastic greeting. His mistake.

“What are you doing here?” I exclaim, pulling back just far enough to see his face.

“I decided to fly to Atlanta via New York. Well, via Salt Lake City and New York. I couldn’t get a direct flight to JFK.”

“Excuse me, could you have this conversation somewhere else? You’re blocking the aisle,” the grumpy woman behind Hunter says.

“Sorry,” he tells her politely, then hefts his suitcase into the overhead compartment like it weighs nothing and slides past me into the open seat.

The woman who was behind him continues down the aisle with her huge bag. How she got that past the gate agent is a mystery. I’m positive it extends beyond the allotted inches.

I focus on Hunter. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He leans down, picking up the lip gloss and gum that ended up on the floor and stowing them back in my bag. Then he reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together. “It’s not every weekend our best friends marry each other. I figured that merited a special trip.”

---