Page 85 of The Bodyguard Affair
Em swings Mom a look. “It means I’ll be good to stay with Mom a couple days while you’re away. In Mexico!”
My stomach does some sort of nervous twist. “Em, you really don’t have to.”
“I insist. It’s no big deal.”
I shake my head, eyeing Mom. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave again.” As badly as I wanted to go to Mexico with Andi, the thought of leaving Mom so soon feels daunting. It occurs to me now that, despite myself, I’ve actually been enjoying Mom’s company on her good days. I enjoy our conversation, even if she can get on my nerves at times. I’m not sure what changed with her over the years, or whether she’s always been this person deep down, but something about her energy is infectious.
“Nonsense. I’m not letting you. Consider yourself kicked out,” she says.
“Evicted,” Emma emphasizes, tossing me a yellow tube with a cartoon banana on it. “By the way, here’s some suntan lotion for Mexico. It only expired in 2009.”
• • •
Seeing Andi again adds years to my life.
When I pick her up for the airport, I have to smother the temptation to run to her and jump up and down like a maniac. I hug her tighter than I intended, taking in the fruity smell of her shampoo, the way she pops onto her toes with a little squeak, how she lets her lips graze my skin as she presses her nose into the nape of my neck.
That phone call was the only thing that kept me going. And I’ve had far too many long showers replaying it in my mind.
I can barely believe she’s finally here, within reach. Right in front of me.
I cup her face, strumming her jawline with my thumb for a heartbeat before tilting her chin upward. “I missed—”
Before I can finish that sentence, she presses her lips to mine. It’s hard, desperate, the way her hands clasp each side of my face and beard, tugging me down toward her. It’s like she’s needed this, needed me. I let her take whatever she wants as she slides her tongue against mine, coaxing a longing groan from deep within my throat.
When we pull back, she smiles up at me, her nose still grazing mine. She’s so fucking cute, I’m never letting her go.
Travelers dodge us and race past with their luggage around us in fast motion. But we stay rooted in place, frozen, my forehead resting against hers like we’re in our own sparkly snow globe. We stay like that for longer than it’s convenient, seeing as we’re late.
Apparently, it doesn’t matter. The flight to Mexico is a clusterfuck.
By the time we get through security and to the gate, we learn the flight is delayed due to a freak windstorm, forcing us to wait at the airport for an extra six hours before boarding. It means we’ll be missing the first night and won’t arrive until early morning the day of the “non-wedding.” Then, we’re in middle seats sandwiched between two families with screaming children in front of and behind us. Because of the delay, it’s a two-hour wait for another shuttle to the resort.
Regardless, it’s still enjoyable. We pass a lot of time workingthrough plot holes and brainstorming for the book Andi’s working on. There’s a lot of time I just sit there and watch her type on her iPad. It’s magical, seeing her at work, witnessing the creative gears turning. Sometimes, she’ll read me a passage she’s unsure about, her voice shaky and hesitant at first, but once she hits her stride, she loses herself in the flow of the words. There’s nothing better than seeing her eyes light up when she slots a challenging puzzle piece of her story into place. It’s contagious, the spark in her when she comes up with the perfect line of dialogue. She’ll sit up straighter, her eyes narrowed, entirely in her element.
“You good?” I ask her as we pull into a narrow, palm-tree-lined lane leading onto the resort grounds. It isn’t lost on me that we’ve arrived at her ex-boyfriend’s wedding weekend.
She squeezes my hand. “Yeah. I’m actually excited. And on the bright side, we got to miss the awkward welcome mixer where everyone tries to act like it’s totally normal that I’m there,” she adds in consolation.
I tilt her an encouraging smile. “Remember, if you need me to fake food poisoning, or a grave injury, I’m game.”
She laughs and our eyes snag.
I think about what she said that one night, about how having a partner for all the good stuff isn’t even the best part. It’s about the mundane times when all your plans go to crap. Doing that flight alone would have been a fucking nightmare. But it’s hard to stay annoyed or stressed for too long when I’m with her.
Chapter 36
Andi
“I’m Hunter’s aunt, Janine. I recognize you but I can’t recall your name, dear,” says a sunspotted woman in a wide-brimmed hat. She’s the first to greet us at the beach for breakfast, where we came directly after checking in.
I vaguely recall meeting her briefly at Hunter’s parents’ holiday party. She was wearing one of those ugly Christmas sweaters with battery-powered string lights. I swallow. “Nice to see you again. I’m Andi.”
Apparently, she recognizes the name, because her eyes go wide like saucers. She lifts her gaze to meet mine suspiciously over her plate of shrimp, like I’m here for nefarious purposes. “Andi. Right! You were Hunter’s…”
“Ex-girlfriend,” I take the liberty to say. Might as well bite the bullet. “Don’t worry, I was invited. I’m not here to object or anything,” I joke. It doesn’t land; she recoils.
“Babe, do you want any French toast?” Nolan asks, sidling upto me, saving me. Thank god. He leads me away from Aunt Janine, who’s still eyeing me warily as she returns to her seat.
