Page 42 of Flown in for Christmas

How could she leave?

Joy is…amazing. Beautiful, smart, funny. She’s all those things and more. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until I’m six feet under: Joy Bell is perfect and— “She’smine.” The feral declaration slips past my lips before I can stop myself. I don’t waste another second checking the bathroom or elsewhere for her things. I race back down the hall and stairs.

They’ve got, what, a fifteen-minute head start on me? Twenty at the most. I tug on my boots and jacket, scrambling to find my keys. “Where—”

Dad tosses the keys to the rental car at me. I catch them.

I stare down at the keys in hand before looking up. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I say. “I should have never lied about Joy. This wasn’t her idea. It really was all me. I had to beg her to stay and…she didn’t want money or…anything.” The more I say, the harder I want tokick my ass for letting her leave without telling her how much she means to me.

“You thought I didn’t know?” My father chuckles as my mother comes to stand beside him. He wraps an arm around her the same way I’ve done to Joy so many times in the past few days. That now feels like I didn’t do enough. “I know who works for my company, son. We just wanted to see how far you’d take it,” he muses before his expression becomes serious. “You love her, don’t you?”

So fucking much. “More than anything.”

“Then I fail to see the lie,” he says, opening the door. “Now go.” His eyes are misty atop his widespread grin. “Your future is waiting.”

I step outside, breathing in a deep, cold breath of crisp Wisconsin winter air. Light flakes of snow fall slowly from the dark sky and I turn. My family is crammed in the entryway, sending me off with smiles of encouragement to chase down my forever.

I don’t know what I’d do without them.

I grin.

Twenty.

Joy

I drag my suitcaseand carry-on behind me, following my father through the sliding airport doors. Mariah Carey sings her famous chorus of high notes overhead and I sniffle. My heart is heavy as we pass the exit for baggage claim.

“I booked us a flight to New York,” Dad says over his shoulder. His carry-on glides beside him as he checks his watch. “We don’t leave for another three hours, but I’m sure we can do some damage to my credit at the airport bar, don’t you?”

He’s trying to lighten my mood, but I’m finding it hard to think of anything other than Nick and Betty and Bruce and Natalie and Martina. Was Tucker upset I didn’t say goodbye before I left? Will Nick give his parents the ornament we picked out for them or throw it away?

I can’t imagine they’re thrilled with me at the moment. After ruining their party and all. I fight down the urge to cry. Again.

I give him a small, sad smile. “Sure, Dad.”

We print our tickets at an open kiosk and head to check my luggage. Hefting my hastily stuffed bag on the scale, a sparkle on my left-hand catches my eye. I gasp, “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Dad looks over as I splay my hand in front of me. The stunning diamond taunts me with a twinkle even in the poor fluorescent lighting. “We’ll mail it back to him.”

I drop my hand to my side, eyeing my father. “Dad.”

He shrugs, handing our IDs to the attendant. “Return it when you see him in the office next week, then.” Dad drilled me the entire ride here until I confessed how I agreed to pretend to be my boss’ fiancé for the week. He isn’t thrilled I’m not being compensated, or with my lying in general. I wouldn’t doubt if he sends Nick a bill for my plane ticket to New York.

Tears sting my eyes remembering the moment Nick slid his grandmother’s ring on my finger not far from where I’m standing. It was the highlight of my year—maybe even the last several years, if I’m brave enough to admit it.

From the moment I arrived in Wisconsin, I’ve felt…wanted.

It’s a feeling I’m having a hard time letting go of.

“I should give it back.”

“And you will,” Dad harrumphs. “Next week. When he’s got his damn head on straight enough to apologize to you for losing sight of where his allies stand. And has the good sense to thank you forsaving his family and billion-dollar company from ruin,” he adds bitterly.

I sigh heavily, walking with my father toward security. I dig through my purse, searching for my phone.The least I can do is text him. I let him know I still have the ring and promise to return it as soon as possible.

I drop my phone back into my purse after I hit send and we pass the first stop in security before having to wait in line for the metal detector. The airport isn’t busy by any means, but it seems a few dozen people are gathering for their late flights.

“Joy!”

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