Page 56 of I Could Be Yours

“She sets off the sensors every time,” Rix explains.

He frowns. “She have a surgery or something?”

“Or something.” Rix pats him on the chest.

Several security guards are now gathered around Essie, smiling and laughing. She finally gets the all clear and heads for our group, but her bag isn’t waiting for her on the belt. Apparently, it’s not Essie’s day, because that’s been pulled for additional screening.

“Seriously? I get felt upandthey get to see all my lingerie?” She rolls her eyes and heads for the guy going through her bag. “You don’t have to wait,” she calls over her shoulder. “I can just meet you in the lounge.”

“We’re not going anywhere without you,” Rix replies.

We move to the side. Despite all the guys wearing nondescript baseball caps, people have started to recognize them. I keep my eye on Essie. The security guy’s face grows progressivelyredder as he sifts through pink lace. Which I hope I get to peel off her body this week.

The security dude holds up a ratty, saggy stuffed…something. It’s hard to tell since it’s been so well loved. “What’s inside this? Are there drugs in here? Are you concealing a weapon?”

“Oh my God, no. It’s a fake heart!”

He calls someone else over, and that guy reaches for a pair of scissors.

“Jeez! You don’t need to hack Catalina apart!” Essie’s voice goes high and reedy. “There’s a Velcro opening, on her back below her head.”

“Is that a stuffed animal?” Flip asks as he passes a hat back to one of the growing number of fans who recognize the Terror players.

“It’s Catalina. I got it for her after her cat died when we were in grade five,” Rix explains.

“I remember that. You bought it with your newspaper money, right?” Flip replies.

“Yeah. She loved that cat. She was devastated. Essie always brings Catalina on trips. Don’t be dicks about it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Flip says defensively. “It’s sweet.”

I shoot him a look. He widens his eyes.

I return my gaze to Essie, who’s now hugging her ratty stuffed cat to her chest with one arm and trying to repack her bag with the other. Rix goes over to help her.

We finally clear out of the security area, and they rush us through customs because we’re causing a ruckus as the guys collect another crowd.

Once again, we board and take up the majority of first class, except this time we all have pods, so there’s no need to play musical chairs. Five hours later, we land and take a private bus to our resort.

Essie and I join Rix and Tristan at the concierge desk so we can help get everyone checked in.

“We have a room block under Stiles,” Tristan informs the young woman behind the desk.

Rix wraps her arms around Tristan’s waist. “It’s for our wedding.”

“Congratulations. How exciting.” The woman smiles politely and returns her attention to the screen in front of her. But that smile stiffens. “Can you just excuse me for a moment?” Her heels clip on the tile floor as she pulls a man aside and they have a hushed conversation.

“Do you think something’s wrong? What if something is wrong?” Rix asks nervously.

“Everything’s fine, little Bea.” Tristan rubs his nose against hers.

“Tristan! Hey, man, I just got your text!” Connor Grace, another Terror player, crosses the lobby. “I’m glad you made it.”

He’s wearing golf shorts and a collared golf shirt, tattoos I’ve never seen before on display. Usually he’s in a suit or hockey uniform, and they’re all covered up.

“Hey! I didn’t realize you were going to be here this early.” Tristan fist bumps him.

“I brought my Meems here for a little holiday,” he explains.

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