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"Well, didn't you?" Boone says, defiance flaring up.
"Not really. Any fool could see the way they looked at each other."
I raise my brows in surprise.
"Oh, you think you're so clever," Midge says to me. "You're in love with Kit. Have been since she got here and if you don't do something about it, you're going to be sorry for the rest of your life."
She turns to Boone. "Same for you. Though not the being in love part. She's someone special. Friends like that don't come along every day. Believe me. I had a best. Someone I trusted and laughed with. Someone who got me. And then one day she went off the side of the road and was gone." Midge's voice is rising and tears glisten in her eyes. She swallows hard.
"Kit says some guy named Peter is planning to propose to her on Christmas Eve. Poor girl sounded miserable and lost and didn't know what to do. Said she needed a friend to talk to. So I talked to her. Because you blocked her fucking calls." She glares at Boone and we both are taken aback by Midge’s language.
"You're all high and mighty because she wasn't a good friend to you, or so you say, but look at you, being stubborn. Just like always. Well I'll be damned if I'm going to stand by and watch the two of you let some country club boy take away someone you both love."
She gives us each one more pointed look, spins on her heel and walks out of the kitchen.
There's an awkward silence in the room. Then Boone sniffles. I look over and she's crying. I can't remember the last time I saw her cry. I pass her my handkerchief. "Here you go," I say and the hardness in my heart softens.
"Thanks," she whispers, wiping her eyes. "I-I'm so sorry," she says. "Kit's not like Christy. I guess I've always known that, I was too stubborn to admit it."
She comes over and gives me a hug and I feel all the anger and bitterness between us melt away. She pulls back and looks at me.
"Looks like you'd better haul ass to Connecticut, big brother."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
December 24th
Evening
ADAM
"We're making our final approach to Orlando International Airport. Please return your seats to their full upright and locked position and close your tray tables. The captain has put on the fasten seatbelts sign and we'll be coming through the cabin to pick up any trash you have before we land."
"Are we there? Are we there? Where's Mickey? I want to see Goofy."
I'm sure the attractive gate agent who gave me several flirty looks meant well by giving me the last seat left on the plane, and I am grateful, but this is my third flight since leaving home some unknown amount of hours ago and I've spent the three hours it took to get from Dallas to Orlando with Timmy and his brother Tommy bouncing in the seats next to me. Their parents are flying in first class but didn't see fit to spend the extra for their little darlings to travel with them, so I've been tasked with keeping the two monsters from kicking the seats in front of them, fighting, and leaving crumbs of food all over the place.
As soon as I got my head out of my ass and decided to go and get Kit and bring her home with me, I called the airport to book a flight on a private jet and found out nothing was available. "I'm sorry, Mr. Starr," the woman at the airport had said. "But, most people plan their Christmas flights well in advance."
So, I'm relegated to flying commercial. Coach. Maybe I am spoiled.
Desperate, I stood at the ticket counter begging for any flight that could get me even close to Connecticut but with a major winter storm looming over the eastern seaboard and the crowds of people flying to visit family or Mickey Mouse for Christmas, my options were limited.
I flew from Ponderosa Pass to Dallas where I was supposed to get a flight to Hartford, Connecticut and from there I'd have a short drive to Kit's house.
But the flight to Hartford was canceled due to an equipment problem. I stood in line and waited for a new flight. By the time I got to the front of the line, my options were even more limited. I took a flight to Atlanta thinking it was at least closer to my goal of getting to Kit.
In Atlanta I learned the only flight to Connecticut is leaving from Orlando.
And that's how I found myself wearing a shearling lined leather coat and flying to Orlando on a plane full of hyped-up kids and their already beleaguered parents. The thing keeping me going is the thought of Peter Brinkman getting a ring on Kit before I have a chance to plead my case.
Sure, I could have called, but I didn't want her to tell me to go to hell. I would have deserved it, but figured my best chance was the element of surprise.
I look at my watch. My connecting flight is boarding in five minutes and my gate is in another terminal. Not to mention I'm in the last row of a packed plane and every person has something crammed into the overhead bins.
"Let me see out the window," Timmy says. Or is it Tommy?
We've landed and they both have their faces pressed to the glass. To make matters even worse, their mother has suddenly grown a conscience and makes her way against the flow of passengers in order to come back and get her two little darlings. Unlike me, she looks relaxed and refreshed.
