Page 42 of Get Lost

Chapter Fifteen

Thursday morning came quickly, and his departing flight came even quicker. After completing Drew’s last-minute errand request, Alex was dangerously close to missing his flight. But, as the best man and Drew’s best friend, he’d been unable to say no, so after running around Hell’s Half Acre this morning—also known as Santa Monica—Alex was now a far cry from his usual laid back self.

He was a ‘get to the airport early and have a few beers’ kind of traveler, not a ‘cross your fingers and hope youandyour luggage make it’ type of guy. He tapped his foot against the tile floor as he waited impatiently in line for security. He’d recently been debating going through the whole process of getting TSA-approved, but kept putting it off because he didn’t really travel that much, but now he was kicking himself. He checked the time on his phone again, then slipped out of line and flagged down a TSA agent.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but is there any way I can cut to the front?” He glanced at his ticket on his phone, then turned the screen toward the woman. “I’m about to miss my flight.”

“Oh my gosh.” Her eyes widened when she looked at the time on his boarding pass. “Yes, yes, follow me.” She glanced down at his luggage. “Just the two carry-ons?”

Alex nodded. He’d shipped everything to Barbados in advance, thank God, and all boxes were already there and accounted for, stored—hopefully safely—at one of the villas.

The woman led him past the ropes to another TSA agent near the baggage scanners, explained the situation, and wished Alex good luck.

He’d need it.

Once through security, Alex raced toward the gate, finally picking his roll case up and carrying it for better speed. When he reached the gate, a woman in a navy-blue suit looked up at him from behind the counter. “Alexander Arroyo, I presume?”

He nodded, panting. “Yes, yes. Sorry I’m late.”

“You’ve just made it. I’m about to close the doors.”

He sighed a whoosh of relief, then showed her the ticket on his phone. She scanned the bar code, then motioned for the door. “You’ll have to just take any open seat you can find.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

She smiled politely and wished him well, then he turned away from her to rush through the jet bridge. He slowed down as he reached the open mouth of the plane’s door, trying to look more presentable and less like the stressed-out best man-turned-errand boy he was at this moment. The captain no longer stood at the open door to the cockpit greeting guests, and the other stewards were likely off attending to their pre-flight checklist, so it was just one disgruntled flight attendant, watching him with annoyance as he entered the plane.

“Glad you could make it.” She had one eyebrow raised and a dissatisfied pucker to her lips. “You’ll have to sit anywhere you can find a seat.”

Alex nodded. “I understand.”

Her gaze dropped to the small carry-on at his feet and the garment bag draped over his shoulder and she sighed her loud disdain. “I hope I can find a space for those.”

Alex smiled apologetically, then made his way down the aisle, scanning each row for a seat. When he was almost to the back, he spotted a middle seat. In the aisle was a large man, a laptop in his lap, fingers tapping against the case like he was desperate to get back to work as soon as the captain gave him the okay. When he noticed Alex standing there, he glanced at the middle seat beside him, rolled his eyes, then huffed his annoyance as he stood to make room for Alex to enter the row and take a seat.

Alex was about to climb into the middle seat when the woman in the window seat caught his eye. She had her brown hair pulled up into a bun, and a mask covering her eyes that said something about mimosas. Alex smirked. What were the chances?

He climbed into the middle seat, not-so-accidentally bumping the brunette in the window seat.

Startled, she sat up quickly, removing her eye mask and looking at him with wide eyes that quickly narrowed. Alex tried not to grin triumphantly when her mouth pulled into a hard line and she took a deep breath through her nose.

He inclined his head. “Chelsea.”

He could almost see her counting to ten in her mind as her shoulders rose and fell on another deep breath. “Alexander.”

His name on her lips was always such a contradiction, at once a curse and a prayer. He loved to hear it almost as much as he loved the way she looked at him with that same contradiction in her eyes, like she couldn’t figure out if she wanted to fuck him or fight him.

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