Page 44 of Dom


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Big Guy: *sends photo of empty first-class seat*

Big Guy: I’m already annoyed at whoever is going to make me get up so they can sit here because I know it won’t be you.

I shieldmy eyes from the sun and smile at the phone.

Me: Just remember, The Fugitive is off-limits.

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Big Guy: Obviously. That’s our movie.

“You smiling over your mystery man?” Aspen says, surprising me.

I tip my head to the side, laid back in my lounge chair, to look at her.

She’s in the same position as me, a few feet away, our faces shaded by the big umbrella.

“Yes,” I admit.

Aspen purses her lips. “The longer you try to keep his identity a secret, the more curious everyone is gonna get. And a curious King can be an extremely obnoxious thing.”

She’s speaking the truth.

“I just want to meet him in person one more time.” Everyone knows that we met in the airport and had a flight together. And everyone speculates about why I was late to get my luggage. “If we still hit it off after that, then I’ll take a photo of his driver’s license and give it to King.”

I don’t even bother complaining about Bo tattling on me.

Aspen leans her head back, closing her eyes. “I still say you should let King run the guy now. Can never be too careful.”

I make a humming sound, understanding her point but having nothing to add.

Unlike Aspen and King, I’m not wealthy. I’m not powerful. I’m just a normal no one.

So there’s no one out there targeting me for some sort of marriage of benefit. If a man marries me, he inherits an Ikea living room set, an expensive blender I’ve used twice, and a savings account that could buy a decent used car, but not a luxury one.

My lids slide closed.

Dom’s not after me for my money or anything else. And when I get home tomorrow, I’m going to make seeing him in person a priority.

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Me: *sends photo of my feet between two other sets of feet on the plane*

Me: Guess who forgot to make her seat selection and ended up sitting bitch in row twenty-seven?

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Big Guy: My poor Valentine.

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Big Guy: Happy Halloween, Shorty. Tell me, are you dressing up as an angel?

Me: Well, it’s 8 p.m. and I’ve already got my costume on.

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