Page 205 of Altius
“I can’t go,” Cal said. “Got movers scheduled for Sunday. And the mated pair is too busy. Alijah’s handling food and a bunch of other things, while Joaquin volunteered to help organize inventory.”
“What about you?” I asked my brother.
His left eyelid twitched. “My relationship with Morgan hasn’t progressed to the point where my presence would be welcome.”
“Which makes you the man for the job.” Cal clapped me on the shoulder with a bit too much force. “Now, we just need to figure out your destination. I know it’s still freezing out, but renting a beach house would guarantee peace and quiet. Or—”
“No. There’s only one place I want to take her.” My certainty seemed to catch them both off guard. “It might sound crazy, but hear me out. I have a plan.”
Forty-Eight
Morgan
Iknew the guys were up to something because of Alijah’s complete and utter lack of game face.
At most, I expected they’d take turns keeping me company during Kelsey’s move, which I planned to spend continuing to search for anomalies in the football team’s PheroPass data.
Leaving the city had never crossed my mind, let alone leaving the country.
Yet there I was, standing in the international departure security line at the airport Friday night, holding my passport—provided with Kelsey’s blessing—and a ticket for the last city in the world I ever thought I’d return to.
Montreal.
We’d already checked our bags, which contained a plethora of winter gear, something I no doubt had Cal and my sister to thank for.
As the line snaked forward, Wyatt pressed himself against my back, wrapping an arm around my middle. “Did I mess up?”
“No,” I said slowly. “I’m just…processing.”
“I know we’re not the most sentimental people, but Montreal was supposed to mean something to us. Something good.” He rested his chin on my shoulder. “I had a mile-long list of questions to ask you on our date that night. Looked up all thedifferent crepe places within walking distance of the hotel. Also had a few romantic spots tucked away, just in case I got lucky.”
Covering his fingers with my own, I rubbed his thumb as we shuffled forward a few steps. “I don’t recall you ever asking me out.”
“Well,” he stammered, “maybe not in so many words, but… It’s what I was hoping for.” Wyatt pressed a quick kiss against my hair. “That’s why I want a do-over. A proper first date. The first of many.”
“I’ll give you points for creativity.” After giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, I broke his hold, taking a large step forward, just in case anyone from the university was nearby. “But I might… Might not be okay.”
Wyatt nodded, then stepped right into my personal space and recaptured my hand, holding it tight. “I don’t care if we spend the weekend holed up in the hotel. It’s got room service, and I paid extra for a decent view. I can still ask you all my questions while you fiddle with your data.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Hold on.” He pulled out his phone, operating it with one hand because he refused to loosen his hold on my fingers, and opened a lengthy, typo-laden list. “Let’s see… I’ve discovered the answers to some of these already, like which of your parents you resemble most.”
“Pops, of course.”
“Nope, it’s totally your mom. Same poise, same smile.”
I shook my head. “That’s Kelsey.”
“Oh, come on. She’s a clone of your Papa.”
“Looks-wise, maybe…”
“It’s a huge bonus, if you ask me. Pretty privilege is a thing,” Wyatt said, still scrolling through his list of questions. “It’s helped me more than I’d like to admit—but it’s also the only useful thing I inherited from my mother.”
Before I could respond, a question struck his interest.
“Window or aisle seat?”
