Page 50 of Holiday Unscripted
“It’ll just become harder and harder if we continue this and then I leave.” The knot starts to form in my stomach. “Not to say that last night”—he’s about to correct me—“and this morning wasn’t good.”
“Wasn’t good?” He grins. “You have to admit it was better than good.”
“Fine, it’s was great,” I admit to him. “You learned a lot in seven years.” I say the words and it shouldn’t bother me that he was with someone else, but I’m fucking bothered by it. “Needless to say, it wouldn’t be smart for us to continue this.”
“I agree, but I’ve learned that I don’t like to do the smartest things.”
“Like kiss me?” I don’t know why my feelings are hurt by this.
“No,” he quickly states, “kissing you was definitely smart.” He brings the cup to his mouth. “If I hadn’t kissed you, we would have never cleared the air.”
“This is very true.” I can admit he’s right on that. “But then you didn’t have to kiss me again and then drag me to your room.”
“You kissed me the second time,” he counters, “and I didn’t drag you to my room.” He cocks his hip. “I carried you willingly.”
“Potato, pa-tah-to.” That’s the only thing I can counter with. “Either way, we need to just move forward and it’ll be good we are doing it without trying to kill each other.”
“I agree,” he says. “So from now on, it’s going to be strictly platonic between the two of us.” I nod because I don’t know how my voice will sound if I speak to agree with him. “Good. I’m off to take a shower.” He grabs his mug. “A cold, cold shower,” he mumbles and I can’t help but laugh as he walks up the steps.
“Don’t go after him,” I have to tell myself. “Nothing good is going to come if you go after him.” I lean back on the stool and take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t do it,” I tell myself. “Don’t you fucking do it.” I look over at Whiskey. “I really want to go and take a shower with your dad,” I tell the dog, who is lying on his side unimpressed with the heart-to-heart conversation I’m having with him. “Do you think I should go after him?” He doesn’t even lift his head. “Yeah, I don’t think I should either.” I look over when something catches my eye from the side. Baby Cat saunters into the room, his eyes look like he just got up as he looks at me with a “where were you last night?” face. “Did you miss me?” I chuckle at him, stopping and sitting down, looking out the window. “Sorry to break it to you, buddy, but you having the whole bed for yourself was a one-night thing.”
I get up, putting my mug in the sink and rinsing it out before walking upstairs, and hearing his shower still going. I wrestle with it for about two full minutes before I groan and head toward my own shower.
“Do you remember what he looks like?” I lean over to Nate and ask him as we stand at the bottom of the escalator waiting for Macy’s brother. The airport is jam-fucking-packed with last-minute travelers. If I thought the airport was crowded when I was traveling here, I was dead wrong.
“You think I looked at the picture?” He looks over at me. “I was watching you the whole time.”
My stomach should not flutter at those words, and I literally have nothing else to say to that, so I just look forward, watching people come down. “So this is what it feels like,” I mumble as I look around to see people celebrating with their loved ones.
“What what feels like?” He looks down at me.
“Well, for one, what it feels like when someone remembers to pick you up at the airport and the other”—I point over to the luggage carousel that has people picking up their luggage—“to have their luggage waiting for them. It’s a privilege.”
“You act like they didn’t find your bag.” He snorts.
“Do I have the bag?” I ask him. “They said they located it but where is it? Why isn’t it here with me?” I shake my head. “They said it would be a couple of days,” I snap back at him, “and it’s been a couple of days since and no bag.”
I look toward the escalator, scanning the arrivals. “I think that’s him.” I point to the guy wearing jeans, a white T-shirt with a black jacket, and a buzz cut.
His eyes scan the area, and when he sees the two of us, he holds up his hand. “It’s him.”
“I’m holding a sign with his name,” he reminds me. “I hope he can read.”
“Hey,” he says when he comes closer and his smile beams, “you must be Elizabeth.” I’m expecting him to hold out his hand to shake mine, but instead he takes me for a big bear hug. “I would recognize you anywhere.”
“Um,” I say looking over at Nate, who looks like he’s about to rip off this guy’s arm, “thanks?”
“I have to say”—he steps away and gives me a megawatt smile, as he gives me a scan from head to toe—“you look even better in person than you do in pictures.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Nate snaps, and I gasp while he holds out his hand. “I’m Nate.”
“Hey”—he shakes his hand—“thanks for coming to get me.”
“Are we waiting for a bag?” Nate asks him and he shakes his head.
“Got everything I need here.” He shrugs his shoulder for the backpack. “Joshua said he’d hook me up.”
“Let’s go,” Nate urges and he makes it so he’s walking in between me and Gavin as we make our way to the truck.
