Page 80 of Claiming What Is Mine

Chapter Thirty-Five

Meredith

“Do you have the tickets?”

I nod. “And the passports. But I still feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“Passports? We’re going to Hawaii, not the Caribbean.”

“I know, but I don’t like the thought of being that far from home without them only to find out we need them.”

“I get it, better safe than sorry.” Gabe puts his arm on my shoulder. “I don’t want to add more stress, but we should get on the road if we want to make it to the airport.”

“Okay.” I yawn. “How did you ever get used to being up so early?”

“You don’t really. The only time four AM isn’t early is when it’s late.” Gabe grins and hands me a stainless-steel mug. “Best workaround I know is coffee. Lots of coffee. But it’s almost two-hours to the airport, you can doze in the truck.”

“Nah. If you’re up, I’m up,” I say, as I give in to another yawn.

* * *

Gabe runshis hand along my cheek. “Mer. Hey, Mer—wakeup, we’re here.”

I open my eyes to the harsh fluorescent lighting of long term parking. The clock on the dash reads six ten. I stretch and yawn as I rub my neck. “The sun isn’t even close to rising yet. What time’s the flight again?”

Gabe opens the rear door and starts pulling out our luggage. “Not for a couple more hours.” Something in the distance catches his attention. “Hey, I think that’s the shuttle, come on. We can grab breakfast after we get through security.”

It takes everything I have to stay awake until we board the flight. Eating only makes my eyes heavier. The moment my butt touches the seat, I’m fast asleep. The welcome aboard greeting from the captain – I sleep through it. Food and beverage service – I sleep through it. Noisy damn baby whose parent must be wearing earplugs—I sleep through it. The only thing strong enough to wake me up is the jolt of the wheels touching down in Salt Lake City.

By the time we disembark the plane and my feet touch the terminal floor, I’m bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to be on vacation in Hawaii. And then, Gabe reminds me of the second leg of our flight. The one that’s seven hours long. UGH. We are sharing a still-warm-to-the-touch cinnamon and sugar soft pretzel from one of the restaurants in the airport when he leans in close. “Do you remember? This is sort of how we planned to get married. I mean…with a twist.”

Do I remember? Of course, I remember. But I’m shocked that he remembers.

I smile as I chew on a piece of pretzel. “Of course. Where do you think I got the idea from? I know we’re running away to elope, But I was determined to do whatever I could to try for our dream wedding.”

Gabe nods, seemingly pleased to know I had not forgotten either.

The flight to Honolulu is uneventful, except for the fact that I’m completely awake and ready to land before the plane even takes off. I haven’t been on a real vacation in so long. Add to that, the fact that this is Ha-freakin-waii and that I’m getting married—yeah I’m pretty much on pins and needles the entire time. We land about four PM local time and by the time we retrieve our bags and catch a taxi, I don’t know which is screaming louder, my need to eat or to sleep. I rest my head on Gabe’s shoulder as the car turns into the hotel lot. “I’m famished, how about you?”

Gabe nods as he hands the driver his fare. “I could eat. Want to be lazy and order room service?”

“Hmmm.” It sounds easy, but sometimes room service takes forever, and we didn’t fly all this way to sit in a hotel room. “Mind if we check out the hotel restaurant?”

“Not at all.” Gabe’s eyes light up when he realizes the restaurant is a steakhouse and mine light up after we enter and I get a look at the million-dollar ocean view spanning the dining area.

When our food arrives, it looks every bit as magnificent as it tastes. Gabe’s porterhouse steak is at least two inches thick. I choose the filet mignon, and I’m afraid I’ll live to regret it, because I doubt I’ll ever eat beef this tender again in my life. I place my hand on Gabe’s to get his attention, but eventually have to clear my throat and cough to get him to stop cutting at his steak long enough to notice the sun setting over the water. “It’s so beautiful. Thank you for this.”

Gabe does his best to swallow the bite in his mouth, almost choking himself in the process. “Are you kidding? You don’t need to thank me. Hell, I feel like I should be apologizing to you non-stop while we’re here.”

His statement catches me off-guard. I rub his hand. “What on Earth for?”

“For being almost two decades late getting you here.”

I sit back in my seat. “No way. You don't have anything to apologize for. That's all me. I almost let my fear break us. I thank God every day that didn't happen.”

We finish our meal, and we both agree we’re too tired for dessert. However, decadent it may be, we’re dead on our feet and ready for bed. Besides, we have to be up early tomorrow. I phone the front desk to request a wake-up call at four thirty while Gabe showers. We sleep soundly, cuddled up together in the center of the king-sized bed, but with lights out by seven, even with a full night’s sleep, we’re up and moving by three AM.

To make it work, we had to schedule a dream vacation into five days (including travel), but considering we only came up with the idea a month ago, and Christmas is eight days away, sacrifices had to be made. Sacrifice—ha. The weather forecast for the next few days is around eighty degrees with a nice breeze and no chance of rain. Some sacrifice.

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