Page 32 of The Thanksgiving Hookup

“But you love me.”

“I definitely do,” I agreed, and in the next second, I was in his arms, my lips pressed against his.

Every time we kissed, I forgot the rest of the world existed. Everything faded away, and my knees felt like they were about to buckle. Thank God he always had the foresight to hold on to me. If he let go, I knew I’d fall.

“We need to go,” he said with a crazy look in his eyes before adding, “Just because we work for the airline doesn’t mean they’ll hold the plane for us.”

We weren’t even remotely close to being late or missing our flight. I didn’t run behind. Professionally or personally. I was punctual, and my boyfriend was being weird.

“Okaaay,” I said, dragging the word out. “I’m ready.”

“Come on,” he insisted before grabbing my suitcase and my hand.

We made a beeline for our front door like the condo was on fire, and I still had no idea why.

RIVER

I was completely rattled and about two seconds from Sky asking what the hell was wrong with me and then bolting out of my grasp while she dumped me in the process. I kept telling myself to calm the hell down, take a deep breath—or twelve—and pull it together. But nothing worked. The diamond ring I had stashed in my carry-on with a note to security, begging them not to pull it out in front of her, were making me anxious.

What if they miss the note?

What if they open the box in front of her and blow my whole surprise proposal?

The last thing I wanted to do was ask the woman of my dreams to marry me in the fucking Miami International Airport. There was nothing romantic about that. Especially since airports were part of our jobs. What woman wanted to be proposed to at the office? None that I was aware of.

I started to sweat, just thinking about it.

“River?” Sky asked, her voice sweet and a little concerned.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

See? She knows something’s up. Deflect, idiot.

“This is our first real vacation, and I don’t want anything to mess it up. That’s all.” I really hoped she believed that. I stopped walking, leaned down, and pressed a quick kiss against her mouth.

“I’m excited too,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip.

“I’d be more excited if you’d packed less clothes,” I teased, wrapping an arm around her as we headed toward my car.

Reaching in my pocket, I pressed a button, and the trunk of my Audi sprang open. I wheeled both of our suitcases toward it and tossed them inside. I was heading to Barbados with my girlfriend, but I’d be coming home with my fiancée.

Unless she said no when I asked her.

Oh my God, what if she says no?

What if she isn’t ready?

I started sweating again.

Why didn’t anyone tell me how nerve-racking this whole thing was?It was like some well-kept secret that no guy ever talked about. Kind of fucked up, if you asked me.

She isn’t going to say no, dummy.

She loves you.

You’ve talked about getting married a hundred times before.

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