Page 100 of What Comes After

“Praise the gods.” She lifts her arms up and sways them in the air.

“Gee, thanks.” I shake my head at her.

“No offense. I love you and all. But this is way to freaking early for me to be awake.” She takes a step toward me. “You’ll call me as soon as you land in New York.”

“I will.”

“Have a fun trip and be safe.” She gives me a tight hug.

“I will.”

“Thanks, Abel. You have no idea how much I love you right now.” She steps back, her gaze going to the man behind me.

“I do what I can.” He chuckles.

“Well, we should really get going. I have to be at the airport in less than thirty minutes.” I turn toward Abel.

“Here.” He leans down and grabs the handle of my suitcase. “I’ll take this down and meet you at the car.”

“Okay, thank you. I’ll just be a second,” I say, watching him pull open the front door and disappear outside moments later.

“Eeeek.” Henna makes a squealing noise the instant the door snaps closed.

“What?” I hit her with a questioning look.

“Are you really that blind or are you purposely trying to avoid all the signs?”

“What signs?”

“Girl, that man is head over heels.”

“No he isn’t,” I disagree.

“He shows up at your house at four o’clock in the morning to drive you to the airport even though you already had a ride.”

“Yeah, because he’s a nice guy, and because he couldn’t sleep.”

“Sure he couldn’t.” She rolls her eyes. “Or maybe he’s going to miss you and wanted to see you for a few minutes before you leave.”

“Not likely.”

“You’re so stubborn. You can’t even admit to something when it’s staring you right in the face.”

“On that note.” I sling my purse over my shoulder. “I’m leaving.”

“Okay.” She smiles and throws me a little wave. “Love you,” she calls after me as I reach the door.

“Love you too,” I call back, throwing her one last look before exiting the apartment.

When I reach Abel’s car, he’s already inside. Slipping into the passenger seat, I lay my purse on the floorboard before snapping my seatbelt in place.

“Thank you again for this,” I tell him, knotting my hands nervously in my lap. Why I’m nervous is beyond me. Maybe it’s the flight. I’ve never been a huge flyer. Or maybe it’s because I wasn’t mentally prepared to see Abel this morning and the soaring feeling in my chest is harder to control than normal.

“It’s my pleasure,” he tells me, starting the car before backing out of his parking space.

The drive to the airport is quiet. Abel hums along to the music that’s playing softly from the speakers, while I stare out the window and watch the sleeping city of Chicago pass by.

I’ve always loved being up and out while the rest of the world sleeps. It makes me feel a little less small.

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