Page 33 of Holiday Romance
An annoyed-looking attendant speaks briefly into a walkie talkie before rounding the counter. “Ms. Kinsel—”
“Yes! Hi. That’s me.” We stumble to a stop in front of her as I bring up the tickets on my phone.
“We’ve been calling you,” she says sternly.
“And we came running,” Andrew says, grinning at her. Her glare softens as she takes him in because of course it does, but it’s me her attention returns to as she checks our passports.
“Is everything alright, ma’am?”
Andrew’s relieved smile fades as he glances at me. It’s only then that I realize I’m still crying.
“I’m fine,” I say shakily, snatching my passport back in embarrassment.
She doesn’t look convinced, but waves us through anyway, shutting the door behind us.
“I didn’t know you were serious,” Andrew mutters, sounding concerned as we hurry down the tunnel.
“I wasn’t,” I whisper back. “I’m honestly okay.” Only now that I’ve opened the floodgates, hell if I know how to close them again. Oh God, did I break something inside? Is this just who I am now?
I’m going to be so dehydrated.
We’ve clearly held up the already delayed flight and get glares from the other passengers, but I don’t think either of us care as we head down the aisle to two seats right by the toilets. Not that I’m about to complain, collapsing down as Andrew stores our carry-on bags away. He takes the seat next to me as the attendants begin final checks and close the doors, and I blow out a shaky breath, the sweat cooling uncomfortably on my body from the sudden burst of activity.
“So,” Andrew says, opening the plastic bag of airplane freebies. He finds a tissue and hands it to me as the tears continue to stream down my face. “You bring your own bottle of Tabasco sauce home with you?”
“I grew up in a house where the only flavors were salt and pepper.” I sniff, dabbing my eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think that if you can keep up this crying trick, we’ll never have to queue for anything ever again.”
I start to laugh, which somehow only makes me cry harder, but I give into it, letting my adrenaline tip into hysteria until an attendant politely lets me know that I’m scaring the other passengers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SIX YEARS AGO
Flight Four, Chicago
“I want you to stop sending me pictures of lamps.”
“Now, see…” Andrew shoves my bag into the overhead compartment before sliding into the seat next to me. “Now that you’ve said that I’m never going to stop. You’ve just shown your hand, Kinsella.”
“Does your girlfriend know you’re sending me pictures of lamps you find on the street?”
“Not only does Emily know, but she actively encourages it so I don’t take them home to show her.”
I laugh as I bend down to grab my water bottle, my body protesting the movement. I’d been up half the night with research and ended up falling asleep in an awkward position that every muscle in my body was now punishing me for.
“You alright there, champ?” Andrew asks when I groan.
I sit back up, trying to get comfortable. “I need a massage.”
“I have a girlfriend, Molly.”
“Shutup.”
Andrew just grins at me.
He’s been hyper ever since we met up at security. At first, I thought it was because of his new relationship, but then I caught the whiff of alcohol on him when he leaned in for a hug and he confessed he’d come straight from a party.
