Page 120 of Never With You
I hope you do. It’s the least you could do since I gave up first class for you.
Carly:
I thought you weren’t going to hold this over my head.
Nate:
I lied. I’ll probably hold it over your head for the rest of your life.
Carly:
Still worth it.
The overhead bins click open. Passengers shuffle into the aisle as I let out a slow breath. Almost there. I tap open Instagram out of habit, scrolling straight to my DMs.
Nothing.
Perhaps Mr. International is still flying home.
I gather up my stuff, and as soon as the cabin door opens, I step in line to walk off the plane.
I already went through customs in Seattle, so this is an easy trek through the terminals and then down the escalators to the baggage claim. But just as I funnel into the line of people waiting to step on the escalator, a notification pops up from Mr. International. I don’t have to open the app to read it.
@worth_traveling_to:
Hey, I just posted a new picture. Can you look at it and tell me what you think?
I glance to the top of the escalator, making sure I place my foot on the step. Then, I open Instagram.
It takes a second for my brain to process what I’m looking at.
The first picture on the feed is of Nate at the airport. He’s dressed in a black suit with a black tie—looking incredibly handsome—and he’s holding a white sign with my name on it.Carly Catterson.It’s just like how people do when they’re waiting for someone at the airport.
But the thing that my mind and my heart keep stumbling over iswhy?
Why is there a picture of Nate on Mr. International’s feed?
I blink a few times and look more closely at the picture, fitting the pieces together in my brain.
Then gasp.
It’s Nate.
Mr. International isNate.
Tears rush to my eyes, and I blink them back as fast as I can.
Information comes to me in bursts, but I realize the picture of Nate isatthe Phoenix airport. My head jerks up, eyes frantically looking around.
At the bottom of the escalator, Nate stands with a hesitant smile, holding the sign with my name on it.
We lock eyes, and his shoulders lift, as if he’s saying,I know. I can’t believe it’s me either.
I laugh as one tear falls.
All this time, it’s been Nate.
As I reach the bottom of the escalator, he steps forward, meeting me halfway.
