Page 55 of Ticket to You

“Are you—are you talking to Adam on the other line?”

“What? I, uh, really need to run. Call me soon.”

This time, Gemma actually hangs up.

I open the window and lean out, letting the cool spring breeze float past my nose. After five minutes of pathetic attempts to calm my nerves, my phone vibrates in my hand and Adam’s name flashes up at me, electrifying my senses. I answer the call with a shaky hand.

“Hey, Ophelia.”

My chest flutters at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” I squeak out.Get a hold of yourself!

“I wanted to check in.”

I mumble out something resembling “Alright.”

Adam sighs. “The couple I’m supposed to do a story on today said it’s supposed to rain near Manchester, so we’re working on an alternate interview. I might not be back until this evening.”

Gemma’s words are still occupying every corner of my mind, so it takes great effort to come up with anything even semi-coherent. “That’s…that’s fine. That sounds good. It gives me a chance to get some work done.”

“Okay. Great. Okay.” Adam sounds as flustered as I feel. “I’ll see you tonight? I won’t be back until dinnertime.”

“That sounds great.” Heaven knows I need some time to sort my feelings out. “See you tonight.”

* * *

Everything I write will certainly needa heavy revision once my brain is clear. But at least I have something to show for the day, even if Adam has dominated every other thought. When the sun dips behind the row of old, historic buildings out the window, my stomach rumbles a harsh reminder that the only things I’ve eaten since this morning include half of the massive box of chocolates Adam got me for my birthday—thank goodness I packed it in my carry-on—and stale airplane peanuts.

Though I’m tempted to order room service, I need to be diligently frugal. My career atAtelier Todayis more at risk than ever before. If Hoffman’s, or even just Jane Sommerland, learns that Adam and I are, well, whatever we are, that could be it for me. And if I lose my job, who knows how long it will take me to find a new one? Who knows what kind of financial state I’ll be in?

Luckily, I remember passing a McDonald’s on the way here, maybe a block or two away. Can’t get much cheaper than that.

Just as Adam’s interviewees predicted, a storm settles in. The sky darkens, and I walk back to the hotel in the rain, brown paper bag in hand. The McDonald’s dollar menu isn’t the peak of luxurious dining, but the hamburger and fries sound as appealing as a five-star meal to my empty stomach.

Back in our hotel room, I open all the creaky windows, breathing in the fresh rain, and perch on the windowsill as I scarf down my food. My mind spins in circles of “what ifs” and “hows.”

Soon after I finish eating, the door swings open. My pulse quickens. Adam steps into the room, a dim lamp’s glow illuminating him just enough to show the water dripping from his hair and clothes.

“Adam,” I exhale, stepping forward hesitantly.

He dips back into the hall to bring our bags in two-by-two. My muscles quiver as if it’s the first time I’m seeing him and all of his perfection.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, processing Adam’s serious, unreadable expression as he approaches. “Did something happen during the interview?”

Adam pushes his wet hair away from his face. “I postponed it. Indefinitely. I…I ended up canceling it.”

He’s close enough for his breath to send a rush of heat across my skin, and I shake my head in an effort to ignore the sensation. “Adam, why would you…Outdoorsyis going to be pissed. What happened?” I grab his face, my fingers grazing against either side of his jaw.

“Our bags were lost and ended up in Edinburgh,” he says breathlessly. “They weren’t sure if they could get them back to us before our flight back home, so I drove there.”

“Oh, Adam,” I whisper, dropping my hands around his torso and burying my face in his damp sweater, folding myself into the scent of his cologne. “You–you drovetoScotland, you gave up an interview, and you spent a whole day driving just to get my luggage?”

“My luggage was lost too. This had nothing to do with you,” Adam says sarcastically. “It was all selfish motivation.”

“You know, we could have gone together,” I laugh. “It would have made the drive more fun.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you. Besides, I know you have a lot of work to do, and I think I’m becoming quite the distraction,” Adam says, his smile curling.

I replay this morning’s phone call with Gemma in my mind.I think she’s falling in love with you, too.

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