They just made an announcement we’re delayed for a while. Snow’s really coming down.
Alix
DIA said “let’s make travel even worse.”
Grace
People are panicking. I forgot how much I hate everyone and everything.
Alix
Want me to come back and bring you a snack?
A few minutes stretched and snapped. Another buzz.
Grace
What the fuck? They just CANCELED my flight. They’re saying maybe tomorrow morning. I’m going to baggage claim to grab my bags and then figure out rebooking.
Alix’s pulse hit a button in her throat. She looked down at her carry-on. She thought about the snow. About the glass tunnel connecting the main terminal to the Westin hotel like a sci-fi artery. About the fact that she’d never slept so well as she had with Grace.
The idea struck like static and caffeine. Her fingers were already dialing before she recognized it for what it was: a plan disguised as an impulse.
Grace answered on the second ring. Her voice was paper-thin and brave. “Hey.”
“Grace,” Alix said, breathless and grinning even though nothing had happened yet. “This is a sign.”
“That I’m destined to live in this godforsaken airport?” The smile in Grace’s voice was real but frayed.
“That the universe is tired of us being responsible.” Alix started walking, weaving through a herd clustered around a departures screen. “We’re not rebooking. We’re getting a fucking hotel room.”
There was the tiniest beat. Then, “Alix…”
“I’ll rebook. I don’t care. I have my carry-on. They can put me on something tomorrow.” She talked faster, joy kicking up like fresh snow. “Meet me at baggage claim. We’ll try the Westin before the entire state of Colorado gets the same idea.”
Grace’s laughter came out half-disbelieving, half-relieved. “You’re serious.”
“I’m almost never serious,” Alix said, breath puffing as she power-walked toward the train, “but when I am, it’s for good things.”
“Okay, yes,” Grace said, the word clear and certain. “Baggage claim.”
The train hissed into the station and Alix hopped on, heart ricocheting around her like it had been let off leash. People were bundled and annoyed and tugging their coats tighter. She was light. The cement of the tunnel flashed by, and she caught her reflection in the train window, unashamedly smiling.
Baggage claim was a churn of puffer jackets and resigned sighs. And then, there she was. Grace, standing near a carousel sign, coat collar up, hair tucked behind one ear, scanning the crowd with that focused, efficient lawyer face that made Alix want to both salivate and write poetry.
They saw each other at the same time. Grace’s shoulders relaxed like someone had removed twenty pounds from them. Alix didn’t slow down. She barreled right into a hug that lifted Grace onto the balls of her feet and knocked a laugh out of both of them.
“Hi,” Grace said into her shoulder, voice warmer than the whole terminal.
“Hi.” Alix stepped back enough to see her face. “You ready?”
“Deeply ready.”
They set off at a near-jog toward the corridor to the hotel, dodging rolling duffels and a child dragging a stuffed llama. The hotel’s lobby was a hum of stranded travelers trying to make best-case scenarios out of bad timing. Planters full of winter greens, floor-to-ceiling glass, that weird airport-hotel scent of citrus and disinfectant.
At the front desk, the clerk’s smile was polished and kind, her eyes carrying the faint panic of a person who had been sayingI’mso sorryfor two hours straight. “We’re experiencing extremely limited availability due to the storm?—”
“We’ll take anything,” Grace said, composure back on like lipstick.
