Page 65 of Flirting with the Scrooge

“I’m sorry, Tate.” She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her cheek on my shoulder. “I know how much you like him.”

“He wrote me a song. He put it on a USB in the shape of a cassette tape.”

“He made you a mix tape! That’s so sweet! Playlists will never beat the power of an actual mix tape.”

“Well, sorta. It only had one song, but it was a song he wrote for me.” I pause. “Am I making a terrible mistake by not going after him?”

“You two can always call each other and FaceTime.”

I press my lips together and sigh. “But is that enough?”

She drops her arms to her sides. “If you’re constantly asking yourself what if, then I believe you have your answer.”

I nod. What if… What if I don’t go and he’s gone forever? What if I don’t get a chance to tell him I love him? Because I do. I love him so much. My life has been sad and empty every second he hasn’t been in it. If I don’t get to tell him that, I’m going to regret it.

The chair scrapes across the floor as I shove myself away from the counter, then it topples over with the loud thud. “I need to get to the airport. I need to see him.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. Go with him?” We’ve had such a short time together and I’m not ready to let that go yet. I’m not ready to lethimgo. For once, I’m doing something for me. It may be wild and spontaneous, but that’s how he makes me feel.

Olivia jumps from her seat. “I’m parked behind you. I’ll drive.”

Ledger strolls into the kitchen. “What’s all the noise?”

“Keys.” She holds out her hand.

Ledger pinches his eyebrows together. “Keys? For what?”

“Keys! There’s no time to explain now! A relationship is on the line. And if I don’t get the keys it might be mine.” She fishes in his front pocket until she’s pulling out a key fob.

I race past a confused Ledger to the front door.

“Wait! Wallet!” Olivia hurls my wallet across the room, and I sandwich it between my palms mid-air.

I shove my feet into my boots, not bothering to zip them up, and yank my coat from the hook. I jump into the passenger seat and Olivia hops into the driver’s side. She presses the ignition button, pops it into reverse, and steps on the gas. The entire twenty-minute drive to the airport I keep checking his flight, praying it will get delayed. Or cancelled. Anything to buy me a few extra minutes. Luckily, being Christmas Day, the roads are relatively quiet.

After breaking a few posted speed limit laws, Olivia comes to a screeching halt in front of the departure doors. I jump out and race to the automatic doors. I get impatient when they don’t open as fast as I want them to. While the Harbor Highlands airport is an international airport, it’s small with only two ticket counters and four gates. When I reach the counter, the only person in sight is a younger woman in a navy blue suit jacket. Her dark hair is pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck.

“I need… a ticket… for the… five o’clock flight… to Minneapolis.” With my hands on my knees, I huff out the words while I collect my breath.

The clicking sound of her keyboard is the only noise in the atrium. “I’m sorry. It looks like that flight is full.”

“Please. I need on that flight. I need to talk to someone on that flight,” I plead. I’m here. I’m so close.

“I’m sorry. I do have an open seat on an 8 p.m. flight.”

At the very least, this will get me through security. Then maybe I can stop the plane and tell him everything I need to tell him. “Yes. Yes. I’ll take it.” Pulling out my credit card and driver’s license, I pass them across the counter. As she runs the card, my foot bounces on the tile. I need her to go faster. I’m wasting time. She passes me my cards and boarding pass. Before she can say anything else, I’m running up the stairs two at a time.

TSA scans my boarding pass and checks my ID. Once I’m cleared, I hustle to throw my coat, wallet, and shoes in the bin and push it through. After I go through the machine, I scan the gates to see if I can find Connor. When my tray rolls down the lane, I collect everything and race around the corner to the gates. I hop on one foot as I put a boot on. Then I do the other, all the while checking the screens. Gate four. Minneapolis. I run to the gate counter.

“I need to talk to someone on the plane. It’s important. Please.”

“I’m sorry. The doors are closed. We can’t stop the plane.”

My head falls. I’m late. I’m too late. I mutter a “Thanks” and slowly drift to the floor to ceiling window. The plane sits in front of me. I press my palm to the glass. He’s right there. He’s so close and yet so far away. The plane is pushed back from the jet bridge, and my fingers slide down the glass before dropping to my side. Tears prick the corner of my eyes. I amble back outside and to Olivia’s car that’s still parked at the curb.

Before I can sit down, she asks, “What happened? Did you get to talk to him?”

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