Page 22 of Holiday Romance
“Ah.” His eyes slide from the stranger to me. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”
We move a few paces away to a closed kiosk. The airport is quieter now, but still busy with other desperate souls like us. “Anything?” I feel ridiculous as soon as I ask it.
He shakes his head. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, as though he’s the one about to comfort me.
I stare up at him, hating the resignation on his face. It’s a look I’m not used to seeing on him. I’ve always been the pessimist in this friendship and I’m free to be because he is so resolutely not. So this? This right here? No.
“It’ll be okay,” he continues, and he doesn’t even try and sound like he means it.
“It will be,” I say, and I must sound as determined as I pretend to be, because some of the tightness leaves his expression. I swear to God he almost smiles.
“I know that look.”
“Is it my ‘I’ve got this’ look? Because I do. I’m going to sort it out.”
“You can’t control the weather.”
“No, but I can circumvent it. Not every flight is canceled. We’ll find something. Just let me… let me think. Okay? I’ll get you home.”
“Molly—”
“Ten-year anniversary,” I remind him, taking out my phone. There must besomething. “I’ve already ruined the first-class lounge. I am not about to ruin Christmas.”
“And there you go acting like you’re in charge of US airspace again. Put the phone down,” he adds, but I shake my head.
“We’re getting on a plane tonight,” I tell him. “We’re doing this. Christmas miracle time. Happy, jolly Christmas mir—”
He moves so fast I don’t have time to react. One second, he’s standing at the end of the bar, the next he’s right in front of me, plucking the phone from my hand.
“Hey!”
He ignores me, shoving it into my pocket before clasping my shoulders. I suck in a surprised breath as he dips his head to stare straight into my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he says firmly. “It’s out of our control. The airlines don’t know anything more than we do. But no one’s going anywhere tonight. The best they can do is find us a room and, to be honest, I don’t want to spend the night in some anonymous roadside hotel. I’ve discussed it with my folks and they agree.”
“About what?”
“About staying here.” He takes a steadying breath and releases me, his smile tight. “A lot of people spend a lot of money to stay in cities like Chicago over the holidays. Plus all our stuff is here. It wouldn’t be so bad.”
“You want to stay here for Christmas?” I ask, trying to understand. It’s the last thing I expected. “But your family—”
“I know.” He doesn’t try and hide the disappointment that flashes across his face. “And if a flight becomes available, I’ll be the first person on it. But right now, there’s nothing we can do except waste our time. They can last one Christmas without me.”
The man is a liar. At least going by what he’s been telling me about his family for the last ten years. And he knows it, switching tactics when I remain unconvinced.
“I don’t want to spend the next few days refreshing my screen and getting angry at overworked call agents. The storm won’t last forever, they’ll clear the backlog and we’ll get something. If that’s a few days from now, then so be it.”
“But you—”
“It will be fun,” he insists. “We can order way too much food, watch a bunch of movies. We can make it work.”
“You can’t just…” Wait. “We?”
“Yes,we.” He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Unless you want to spend Christmas alone?”
That isn’t something that necessarily terrifies me, but this new alternative sounds a lot better. Christmas in Chicago? Christmas in Chicago withAndrew?
“Well?” He looks nervous. Almost as if he thinks I’ll say no.
