Page 72 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

"Honey, why don't you step aside while you sort this out? Right over here." She motions for me to step away from the counter so she can help the long line of people that has formed behind me. "And if you know what's going on, I'll be right with you, alright?"

"Thank you," I say and quickly search the e-mail for the phone number of the person who sent me the ticket.

"Hi," I say when the lady I had gotten to know better during my interview process answers. "Jamie, this is Summer."

"Oh… Summer." Her voice already sounds way less enthusiastic than during our last conversations. In fact, it seems downright hostile.

"I wanted to touch base with you because I'm trying to check in for my flight right now, and it says the ticket I’ve been sent has been canceled?"

"Yeah," she says very matter-of-factly, all the warmth from our prior conversations gone. "They decided to go with someone else after all."

Fuck. This is exactly what I’d feared. My worst-case scenario.

I force myself to take a deep breath and fight back the tears. I can cry later.

"And nobody bothered to tell me?" I ask her in disbelief.

"We are sorry for any inconvenience caused," she says, not sounding sorry at all. No, she sounds like a robot, saying whatever it will take to appease me. I just lower my phone and end the call without another word.

"Thank you."

I do my best to shoot the check-in woman a genuine smile, before I walk off, carry-on luggage in tow, and dread turning heavier and heavier in my stomach. Before I know it, I've pulled up Luca’s number and call him, praying for him to pick up.

"Summer, what's up?"

"They canceled on me." I push past the emotions building in my throat, my steps picking up as I try to find a quiet corner.

"They what?"

"They canceled my flight." I clear my throat to keep from breaking into helpless sobs. "They didn't even tell me. The whole fucking line was staring at me, it was so humiliating."

"Where are you now?" Luca asks, alarmed.

"I’m still at the airport." I look around frantically until—yes! Finally, a quiet corner. I all but run over to it, and once I'm there, my knees just buckle, pain shooting through me as they hit the ground.

"Luca, I'm—" But as soon as I face away from the steady stream of people, all of my barriers break down.

"How could they do that?" I press out through sobs, curling together and making myself as small as possible. "I came all the way here, and now Mom and Dad are on their flight, and how am I going to get back? Luca, what do I do?"

"First thing you do is take a deep breath," he instructs me.

“Not an option,” I try to joke, sobs wrecking my whole body.

"Come on, Summer. Breathe with me." He tries to help me, but really, it's making me feel all the more pathetic.

"Where are you?" I finally ask, my heart sinking at his answer.

"I’m in New York for a small project," he admits, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, panic washing over me. Fuck. Of course. The one time I need him, he can't be there.

"I need a taxi," I finally press out.

But he answers with a disapproving sound. "I’m not putting you into a taxi all alone in that state you’re in.” He takes a moment to think. “Summer, do you trust me?"

"Of course," I whisper, leaning my head against my suitcase, the material rough against my forehead.

"I'm sending someone to pick you up."

"Well, I'll be the girl with the mental breakdown in the corner at Terminal Two."

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