Page 72 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“Isn’t it a short flight?”

“Yes, but I’m hungry. Let’s get Popeye’s.”

“Of course, how could I forget that fried chicken trumps everything for you?”

Merritt shot me a mischievous grin over her shoulder as she headed toward the familiar scent of fried goodness rising from one corner of the concourse.

She ordered her usual fried chicken with an extra side of biscuits.

Waiting for our food, I listened to her chatter on about Miami and all the things we were going to see and do. She was clearly excited to go home. That gave me some pause. What was I doing messing with her when she was just going to go back to Miami? That was where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to be with me in Texas. I pushed the thoughts away. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.

We sat down, sinking our teeth into the chicken. “Remember when we used to get money from my dad and go to that chicken place?” she asked.

“Chicken Palace, wasn’t it?” I asked, relishing the taste of my spicy drumstick. “The one next to the laundromat.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile of remembrance. “That place had the best crispy chicken. And those hot, fluffy rolls.”

“Right! Slathered with honey butter,” I joined in as fond memories filled my mind.

Merritt laughed. “It’s funny how food brings back memories.”

“Good times,” I conceded before biting into another piece of chicken.

“How often do you travel?” I asked. “You seem to be pretty used to this shitshow.”

She laughed. “Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of airport escapades.”

“Ever get felt up by one of the TSA guys?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Lucky me.”

“You have the look,” she said with a shrug.

“Of a terrorist?”

She grinned. “Like someone who wants to start shit.”

“I’m a fucking teddy bear.”

“A teddy bear with a penchant for trouble.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description,” I said “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. You’re the one taking me on a plane. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Are you backing out of your free trip to Miami?”

“Nope.”

We finished our food and made our way to the gate. Merritt kept up a steady stream of chatter about Miami and her friends there. Her excitement was infectious, and I could actually feel myself relaxing.

I checked the board and saw our flight was delayed twenty minutes. “Great,” I said. “This is why I don’t fly.”

“Relax,” she said. “It’s not a big deal. You have to factor in delays. Let’s sit down.”

My foot bounced up and down as I looked around.

“I’ll text Lucia and let her know we’re delayed,” she said.