And you don’t have to thank me, I’m happy to be coming.
Me:
See you soon.
And I was happy, among about one thousand other feelings too.
“Ms. Carson, are you ready?” the older gentleman, who I now knew as Harry, asked from the pilot’s seat. “The flight shouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes or so, and I do believe Mr. Walker will be waiting for us.”
I smiled, listening to him repeat what Stetson had just texted me.
“Sounds great.”
“All right, well, we’d better get going. It sounds like you have a show to catch.”
Stetson was right; his job did have perks. The way I just got to Nashville in under an hour proved that.
But despite the once-in-a-lifetime experience, I spent the entire flight running through every possible scenario that could come from this little venture, and ninety-seven percent of them ended terribly, so that was a bummer. Thankfully, out of all of those shitty situations, most of them were highly unlikely.
Like the one where I imagined Stetson just not showing up to the airport to pick me up and telling me I was no longer welcome at the concert tonight.
Anxiety, man, it really got the best of you.
“Smooth flight?” Harry asked from the cockpit after sailing us to a complete stop.
I threw a thumbs-up in the air. “It was perfect, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
I peered out the oval window to my left, toward where an old but pristine red Ford truck sat stationary near one of the hangars. I didn’t see Stetson, but I had a gut feeling that truck belonged to him.
The flight might have been over, but the rollercoaster inside of me said we were just getting started.
“I’ll get your stuff, you go ahead,” Harry said politely.
“Thank you.”
The sun leaked inside the cabin, casting a yellow glow so bright I shielded my eyes as I climbed down the steps.
“Hi.” Stetson’s voice reached my ears before I even reached the pavement.
“Hi,” I said.
The sun was even brighter outside; I used my hand as a makeshift visor to be able to see him. He looked better than the last time I saw him. His eyes well-rested, his hair freshly styled—underneath a baseball hat of course, and clean shaven, only his chocolate-colored mustache remained, covering that plump upper lip of his.
He enveloped me in a hug before I even knew what was happening.
I willingly squeezed back, finding the comfort in his strong arms undeniable.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
The words came so easy.
Easy.
I chuckled softly. George would be proud.
