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“Is he crazy?” I yell. My socked feet slip on the wood floor as I fly round the stair banister. “He wants me to fly to Alaska in three days?” Alaska in December? He’s not crazy. He’s insane.
“He what?” Mom blinks, snatching the collar of her robe.
“What in the hell did he say in that letter?” Cora dives toward my pile of presents, her hands reaching for the letter I left in my spot. Thankfully, Myles is closer and snatches the foiled paper up, holding it on his opposite side until Dad swipes it.
“No one reads this except for your sister.” He hands me the scrawled-on wrapping paper. “And not that it is anyone except Nova and Devin’s business, but yes, he sent her a plane ticket to Alaska, where he will be waiting for her.”
Cora gasps. “Are you going to go?”
Meeting Mom’s soft gaze, I blink away moisture, clearing the lump in my throat.
“I…” I know my answer. I don’t have to think about it. But why am I so scared?
“Why don’t we give Nova a few minutes to think and breathe? Let’s eat.” Standing, Mom ushers everyone out of the living room.
Before Myles exits, he stops at my side, a gentle smirk on his lips. “That’s pretty slick, writing a letter to you and getting Dad’s help. I guess it’s a good thing you’re so damn anal about unwrapping presents.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I tear into the gum and pop a piece, savoring a taste I’ve gone too long without.
It’s a good thing Devin Hawthorne has listened to everything I’ve ever said about myself.
Heknowsme.
forty-one | nova
Devin Hawthorne is a dead man!
I’m rushing through O’Hare to get to my 8:55 flight after being delayed in Burlington due to inclement weather. I knew the fifty-five-minute layover wouldn’t provide much of a cushion. Between that and his booking me a 6:30 a.m. flight out of Burlington, I could murder the man. At least he upgraded to first class, which of course, makes me feel pretentious and snobby. My insecurity is stupid because I typically fly coach. First class is a luxury. Paying for the upgrade back over Thanksgiving was a gift to myself. Something I earned. But Devin automatically placing me in first class makes me worryhethinks I’m high maintenance. I’m not. I’m content flying in the main cabin like everyone else.
Stop your brain, Nova!I’m needlessly nervous and cycling through all my ridiculous worries as I sprint—my carry-on’s wheels click-clacking against the flooring—from terminal one to Alaskan Airlines’ gate in two. Spotting my flight info ahead, I slow my mad rush when I notice the line of passengers still boarding. I may not get my priority boarding, but I made it.
Switching my rolling suitcase from one hand to the other, I’m imagining all the creative ways I’ll make Devin pay for today’s travel woes, compiled with the fact that hestillhasn’t called me when I look up. My sneakers squeak against the slick floor as I trip over my feet and fumble to a stop.
The man of my thoughts stands in the middle of the concourse just outside the gate for my flight, his hands casually resting in the pockets of gray chinos. His fisherman sweater molds to his chest and biceps, making women stare as he starts walking my way.
He’s here.Oh. My. Gosh.
“You’re here!” I yelp, rushing him.
His smile stretches wider the closer I get until my arms are clinging to his neck, my body slamming against his. And then his arms circle my waist, cinching me closer and closer, and everything falls in line.
This. This is the greeting I hoped for in Miami. The kind of touch that gives life to my lungs and flight to my heart.Finally.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.
“Sorry.” I pull myself away, my cheeks heating. “I’m just so surprised and relieved to see you. I hate flying. And I especially hate flying alone. And I almost thought I was going to miss my flight, so I’m already anxious, having run through the terminals. Then I saw you, and—”
“Nova.” Devin chuckles, tucking my tousled hair behind my ear, keeping us close. His hand falls to our side and entwines with mine. “Don’t apologize.”
“I’m just really happy to see you.”
“Took you long enough.” One side of his mouth curves up.
“Don’t even get me started, Hotshot.”
That draws the other side of his mouth into a brimming grin. “We just couldn’t get our timing right, could we? Let’s quit that, okay?”
I suck in a breath, nodding. “Please.”
