Page 1 of Pining for Pierce

Chapter One

Harley

“You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes, Mom.” I do my best not to sound fed up, and in reality, I’m not. It’s just that I’m just tired of answering the same question. “I’m gonna be fine.” I glance at my dad and he smiles back, rolling his eyes. He’s not as fed up as he looks, either. He just wants to get going.

“Come on, Bridget. If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna miss our flight.”

Mom checks her watch and lets out a sigh. “I guess,” she says, sounding doubtful, and for a second, I wonder if she’s about to change her mind and announce they’re not going after all. Considering they’ve been planning this trip for months, that would be ludicrous, and I step closer, giving her a hug.

“Everything will be okay,” I whisper in her ear, and she nods her head.

“I know,” she says, leaning back and cupping my cheek with her hand. Her eyes are the same light blue as mine, and although her hair is a shade or two darker, there’s not a trace of gray among her blonde curls. “I just worry about you.”

“There’s really no need. I’ll be too busy working to get into any trouble.”

“Don’t overdo it, will you?” she says, finding something else to fret about, and I shake my head.

“No, I won’t… now, you really must go.”

“Yeah, we must,” Dad says from the other side of his car, watching as she climbs into her seat before he turns his gaze on me again. “Take care of yourself, Harley.”

“I will. And have fun.”

He chuckles and gets in behind the wheel, closing the door and starting the engine before Mom can find another reason to delay their departure. She’s been fussing all week, panicking about the slightest things, regardless of the fact that she’s the one who came up with this idea in the first place.

“I’ve never been to Europe…” I can remember her words, even now. We were having dinner, sitting in the kitchen, and Dad and I looked at each other, wondering what she had in mind.

“And?” he said, eventually.

“It would be nice to go, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn’t taking her seriously, and that was his first mistake, because the next evening, when they got back from work, she presented him with a series of itineraries, making it clear that not only was she serious, but she’d been doing her research.

“This one starts in Dublin,” she said, handing it over to him. He frowned, studying the sheet of paper she’d clearly printed out, and then glanced down at the bottom.

“You wanna go away for a month?”

“We won’t see much of Europe if we don’t,” she replied.

Dad gulped and took the next piece of paper she offered. “Paris?” he said, managing a smile.

“It starts there and ends in Lisbon.” Mom seemed to have memorized the destinations. “Each tour takes in about ten European cities, but I think I like this one the best.”

She handed over the final one – her favorite – which evidently started in Madrid and finished in London.

“You really wanna do this, don’t you?” Dad examined the last sheet of paper before looking back at her.

“Absolutely.”

I couldn’t help smiling, because although Dad might have been taken aback, I knew he’d give in to her. He always did.

Which is why I’m waving them off to the airport.

“Don’t forget to turn on the alarm at night,” Mom says, leaning out the window as Dad turns the car around.

“No, Mom.”

---