Page 117 of Feel It in the Air

I sputter out a laugh, shaking my head. Should have seen that one coming. He has a good point though. It’s been a minute since we ate, and since the TV screen tells me that we won’t be leaving for a couple more hours—hours!—we might as well make ourselves at home. We can do this.

Pushing up from our seats, we dodge the crowd that is mingling in the waiting area, trying to navigate our way into the sea of passengers. The Atlanta airport is busy on a good day. On a bad one? It’s hell. Luckily, the restaurant across from our gate doesn’t look too packed.

“Grab us seats while I run to the bathroom?” Gus comments, already walking away.

I nod, half-focused on finding us a spot, zeroing in on two seats on the corner of the bar. Perfect.

Kismet, actually.

My insides lift and I’m unable to hold back a smile as I set our stuff down, memories flooding back of that first night. So much has happened since. But who would have thought that a chance meeting in an airport bar would have led to all this. To so much love.

Thunder rumbles again, the angry sound making me laugh, joy overflowing despite the circumstances. Maybe this isn’t so bad. It’s still not ideal, but again, I have the love of my life by my side.

I pull out my phone and open up my family group text, shooting off a note to let them know we’re delayed again but should still make it in plenty of time.

David

you still have the beer though, right?

I roll my eyes. Leave it to my brother to care more about whether or not we have our allotment of Southern Brothers with us rather than our safety.

Yes, it’s safely packed. Don’t worry.

Louis

Both you and Gus, right?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Yes!

Had I realized that my brothers’ biggest concern when I introduced them to Gus—as my boyfriend—was going to be whether or not it meant that they now got free beer, I probably would have been a lot less nervous. Making sure that the Finnegans accepted Gus the same way that the Hayeses had accepted me had me tied in knots for weeks before our first trip to New Orleans this spring. Turns out, I had very little to worry about.

Although Papa Duck did offer up the requisite threat with the butcher knife.

“This seat taken?” a familiar, deep voice asks, pulling me away from my texts.

I spin around, my answer locked and loaded. This is my favorite part.

Always will be.

“Depends.”

“On?”

Gus smirks, his eyes twinkling.

“Do you plan on sellin’ me something, askin’ about my relationship with the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, or mansplainin’ anything to me in any way?”

“Fresh out of things to sell, already know about your relationship with the Lord, and I know exactly where mansplainin’ will get me.”

I giggle, loving that Gus somehow has a fresh answer to this question every time.

Leaning forward, I smile and start to answer him. But he cuts me off.

“But, I do have another question to ask you.”

What?!