Page 19 of Desperately Seeking Mr. Darcy

“Sorry. There’s just a lot to think about,” I reply.

Iambeing quiet. But it’s not totally because of the anxiety. No, that normally has me prattling on like Mr. Collins listing all of Lady Catherine’s virtues. What I can’t tell Amelia is that my quietness is because her stupid, attractive brother is in the car with us, looking exceptionally hot in a hoodie and joggers. I’m a sucker for a guy who can pull off joggers, and Zane can in spades.

Apparently he decided to go to Costa Rica, and we are flying out around the same time, so Amelia’s driving us together so she doesn’t have to make two trips. So therefore, I must suffer in silence.

“Are you excited, at least?” Amelia asks.

“So excited,” I tell her, and I mean it. Mostly. Please see previous statement about my current anxieties. I tuck my hands under my thighs to try and stop the trembling.

“I really wish I was going,” Amelia says, her voice wistful.

“Me too,” I say, feeling my response in my bones. How I wish my best friend were joining me on this trip.

She looks in her rearview mirror at Zane. “Are you excited for Costa Rica?”

“Yeah,” he says. And that’s all he utters. I turn my head toward him, just for a brief second, to see he’s got his eyes closed, his head resting against the tan leather, hands resting on top of his legs.

“Well, you two are a blast to talk to right now,” Amelia says. Her tone is joking, but a quick glance at her profile shows she’s not smiling.

“Sorry,” I say, and Zane sleepily grunts something from the back seat.

I’d love to sit in silence right now to just give my nerves—and my shaky hands—a chance to rest, but my inability to be comfortable when I know someone else isn’t makes me finally open my mouth. That, and the fact that the object of some of my nervousness is now asleep in the back seat. So, Amelia and I fill the rest of the journey with talk about the trip and all the things I’ll hopefully get to do once I’m there.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up to the terminal, and Amelia yells at a sleeping Zane to wake up. We get out and grab our bags from the trunk—a groggy Zane has some sort of heavy-looking backpack that he throws over his shoulder like it weighs nothing, and I have just one suitcase to check and a backpack to carry on the plane with me.

Amelia hugs her brother quickly, says something in his ear that has him rolling his eyes, and then she tells him to have theworst time because I guess that’s what siblings do, and then she turns to me.

She pulls me in for a hug. “You are going to have a magical, life-altering time, okay?” she says in my ear as she wraps her arms around me. “Live out ourPride and Prejudicedreams for me.”

“I will,” I say, though it’s a little strained. She’s holding on to me like her life depends on it.

“Take good notes,” she says, finally releasing me. “And try to sneak a few pictures.”

It’s a shame I can’t have my phone with me to capture it all. But since they didn’t have cameras back then, we won’t have them either. There’ll be photographers for the arrival and departure days, so at least I’ll have some pictures from that.

“I’ll tell you every little detail, I promise.” I make a crisscross sign over my heart—something we used to do when we were younger—to seal it.

“You’re going to be totally fine.” She says this as a statement, and I’m pretty sure she’s saying this for her benefit, like she’s trying to convince herself to believe it and not abandon her job to hop on the plane with me.

“I’ll try not to get kidnapped,” I say.

She frowns. “Still not funny.”

“I’ll be fine,” I reassure her, and pray she didn’t hear the slight tremor in my voice.

“See you in ten days.”

With a wave, she walks back to her car, and Zane and I head toward the terminal. Once inside, I make a beeline for the Delta counter, and Zane follows right behind me.

“You’re ... flying Delta too?” I ask—or really, I sputter.Geez, Macey.

“Yeah,” Zane says. “Mind if I wait in line with you?” He reaches up and swipes a hand down his face. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days.

I swallow and avoid eye contact. “Um ... No, of course not,” I lie. Because I do mind. I have shaky hands and the beginnings of sweaty pits. My nerves are frazzled right now, and his proximity is only making it worse.

There are seven people ahead of us, so I’m either going to have to find a way to be comfortable with awkward silences, strained head nods, and fake smiles after fleeting glances like we’re currently doing, or I’m going to have to open my mouth.

And I choose option A.

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