Page 35 of A Wulver for the Week

THE FLIGHT IS RELAXEDand fun, with first-class tickets and smooth skies calming us both. My playlist of Caithness beaches leads to a full-on vacation buzz, with us planning a Spring Break trip to Caithness next April. We can meet my parents. Walk on the chilly, blustery beaches that won’t be near warm enough to sunbathe on that early in the spring, but Minnie doesn’t care. She just wants to be with me.

But I can’t wait until next year to ask her to be my bride. Hell, I cannae even wait until next week to ask her to marry me. If she wants to wait, I’ll wait, but my heart tells me to act now, like putting a ring on her hand will prevent her from slipping away from me.

Unless you scare her off by asking for marriage too soon, you pillock.

“We’re beginning our descent into Binghamton, folks. Please take a look around you and ensure you have all of your belongings.” The captain’s voice startles me, and I gulp. In a second, they’ll tell us not to use our phones.

A flick of my thumb dispatches the text I’ve been waiting to send to Jan Stilz. “Leave now. Bring ring.”

“Please put your devices away at this time, sir,” a flight attendant says, coming through.

Just in time.

“IS THIS ALL OF IT?My suitcases look swollen.” Minnie drags a bag from the carousel.

“You’ve got an army of bridesmaid’s swag stuffed in there, not to mention all the souvenirs,” I tease.

“Maybe. Let me text my mom that I’m safe on the ground,” she mutters as I deftly take her bags away from her and shoulder my own. “Baby, get a baggage cart.”

“I’m fine, dear.”

“We sound like old marrieds,” Minnie laughs.

“I’m honored,” I quip right back. Normally, when I get off a plane, I’m flooded with relief.

Now, I’m just flooded. Sweat. Liquid tummy. Clammy hands.

What if Jan can’t find my car? What if traffic was bad?

What if everything is perfect and she still says no because no sane man proposes five days after a first “official” date?

“I’ll totally pay half of the airport parking,” Minnie says, walking next to me as she texts.

“You paid for the vacation.”

“I didn’t, the bride and groom’s families did. Let me pay for gas.”

“No!”

“You can’t pay for the Caithness trip, then.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“It’s bargaining.”

“It’s about time!” Jan Stilz emerges from the line of cars in the short-term parking lot, although I told him I was in Row A of the long-term lot. “I couldn’t get into the long-term lot without paying the ticket fee. I love you, buddy, but not that much. Oh, hi. You must be Minnie.”

Minnie looks at the guy who looks like a pirate and a poet had a male model love child, then back at me. “Hi. Craig, I’m confused.”

“Don’t be,” Jan says, striding up and sliding a sealed manila envelope in my sweatshirt’s pouch pocket. “I had to drop off some... spare keys. Here, Craig. Don’t worry, I watered your begonias and brought in your mail.” Jan grins, pats my chest, and waves to Minnie, leaving before I can even say thanks.

“Thank you!” I call. He just keeps walking and waving, his long, glossy brown hair billowing in the cold March breeze, reminding me we’re back near the mountains now.

Well. I’ll thank him properly later.

“Wait. What? I thought you said your neighbors, Calder and Janet, were going to water the planets. Was that Calder? Why wouldn’t they just leave the spare keys in the mailbox or slip them under the door or something?”

“Oh, no, that was... About something else. Ooh, quick, there’s the shuttle bus. Let’s take it to the long-term lot.”

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