Page 62 of Meet Stan

I looked down at him. He panted up at me in a doggy smile. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a collar and could have used a bath.

“You’re not Jacks’ dog at all, are you?” I sighed. “You’re a stray who just happened to be sleeping in the sidecar. Fuck it, let’s go find your new mommy.”

I took off into the terminal. I knew which airline the firm would use to send the woman I loved to Singapore. There was only one flight left for the day heading there—and it was in the middle of boarding.

I wasn’t too late.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman at the sales counter. “I need to speak with one of the passengers on that plane. It’s urgent.”

She took one look at me—covered in motor oil, duct tape, pigeon feathers, and accompanied by a dirty street dog, and chuckled.

“Yeah, I’ll just bet. Move along, pal.”

“Come on, I know I probably look and sound like a lunatic—”

“You got that right.”

“—but I really need to get on that plane, just for a moment. Please.”

“Pal, the only way you’re getting on this plane is if you buy a ticket.”

“Oh, okay,” I said. “I’ll get one for the dog, too.”

“Pets need to be in a carrier.”

“Not if he’s my therapy pet.”

She gave me a look as if to say ‘are you really going there?’ I nodded firmly. I was going there.

She sighed and punched up her computer. A smirk crossed her face. “I’m sorry, but the only thing available are first-class seats.”

“Perfect,” I said.

She gave me another once-over and pursed her lips.

“Once we add in the last-minute booking fees, and other sundry costs, this ticket is going to cost you well over seven thousand dollars, sir.”

“Sounds good.” I took out my corporate expense card. “Here you go.”

She changed her tune when she saw that.

“M-Mr. Timmons,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“Relax, I’m not here to bust your chops. Just get me on that plane.”

I looked out the window at the terminal.

Hang on, Ivy, I thought.I’m coming. And even if you don’t take me back, I’m going to try and set things right.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ivy

I hadn't flown first class before in my life, and I was shocked to find out how much room I had. The seats were comfortable, could recline all the way, and the cabin proved sparsely populated. Most of the other passengers were situated toward the front of the cabin, while I was near the back. I didn’t mind being close to the lavatory. I considered it a fair price for a window seat.

The minor triumph of a window seat wasn’t enough to make me feel better, though. Stan was persistent, but I was even more so. I would not allow him to get in his ‘rebuttal’ or whatever it was he thought he had to say.

I was certain he had it all justified in his head. It didn’t matter anymore. If he didn’t feel even a little of what I felt for him, I wasn’t going to waste my time any longer. As much as it hurt, I needed to make the separation as clean and complete as possible.

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