A Very Merry Mess (Cider Cove Sweet Southern RomComs #3)

Ryanne

RYANNE

The plane touches down with a jolt, and I grip the armrest tightly. I so hate flying, and while I’ve come home loads of times since I broke ranks and moved South, this time, it’s different. I’m not just heading to a destination, where freshly baked ham and pumpkin pie await; I’m about to introduce Elliott to my entire family.

I can already hear the warbling sound of a drone, as my mom will no doubt hover around me and Elliott, throwing out a new question every other breath. He’s told me he’s used to a lot of questions. “No one beats my momma,” he’d said with a chuckle. Still, I have a feeling mine will give his a run for her money.

“Welcome to Albany,” the flight attendant announces, her voice crackling over the intercom, and I slowly let out the air I’ve trapped in my lungs. I turn to Elliott next to me, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet during the flight, but now I can see the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a smile.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, like warm honey.

“Not even close,” I admit, glancing out the tiny window at the gray skies and the blanket of white snow covering the ground below. It’s beautiful in a way that makes me remember why I had a good childhood, but it also reminds me of how different Upstate New York is from Cider Cove, South Carolina.

How different Elliott and I are going to be from everyone else. “You’re going to hate me by the time we fly home.”

He easily brushes his hand through his dark hair as the plane slows further. “I’ve survived worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But this is—they can be… intense.”

“You’ve told me all of this already.” He takes my hand in his, his long fingers curling around all of mine. “Ry, it’s going to be fine. We’re still going to be friends after this, I promise.”

I have told him about how my mom will be bouncing around like a small dog who’s ingested crack-cocaine, and my dad walks around like he’s got royal blood flowing in his veins. And I spent an hour the other night telling him about how Anna, who is the favorite and wins everything, has to one-up everyone in the family at every turn. It’s like an infectious disease she can’t control.

I nod, but I can’t shake the nervousness curling around my stomach like a snake. I’ve wanted this for so long—a real relationship with Elliott—but now that it’s here, it feels like the stakes have been raised. “I hope so. I just don’t want to explain anything about when we started dating.”

“Why not just tell them the truth?” he asks, quirking that sexy single eyebrow. “You know, that you’ve had three or four crushes on me this year, and you finally said yes to a date.”

What he’s saying is absolutely ridiculous. “I should’ve never told you about the crushes.” I roll my eyes as he laughs, and I’m reminded of how happy-go-lucky he is and how kitty-cat-diva I am.

“Just stating facts, Ry.” The chime sounds, and it’s like a massive rush of unclicking metallic sounds as everyone races to be the first one unbuckled and standing in the aisle.

Elliott sits there like he’s going to stay on the plane and return to Charleston instead of sticking by my side for the next several days.

My mother has already sent me an itinerary for the festivities happening in the Luckson family over the next several days.

Tomorrow is Christmas tree cutting, like, in the woods and everything. Snowy woods.

We always bake Christmas cookies on Christmas Day itself, after we have Belgian waffles with strawberries and cream, buttermilk syrup my sister will brag about at least fourteen times before she places a heated carafe of it in the middle of the table, and bacon.

Okay, fine, my mouth waters over the bacon.

The door of the plane opens, and that causes another round of excitement. I take a deep breath, ready to face whatever comes next. “All right,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

If we make it through Christmas, my sisters, mom, and I will go shopping on Boxing Day, which this year, falls on a Saturday.

Sunday, we’ll sleep late, go to church, and spend the afternoon making flavored popcorns, because my brother-in-law owns the largest flavored popcorn company in the country. Maybe Canada too. No matter what, it’s a lot more than what Elliott and I do at Paper Trail.

Monday is my normal day off, so my leave got approved through Tuesday, and Elliott and I will fly home that afternoon. It’s a short flight, and we don’t have to cross any time zones, so we booked a late afternoon flight to be home at a decent time for me to get to work the next morning.

Elliott doesn’t have to work Tuesdays, a fact I’ve been counting on for him to stay my friend. He’ll have an extra day to recover, a whole day to himself after the craziness of spending twenty-four-seven with me for the next five days.

Not twenty-four-seven , I tell myself. Elliott will have the guest house all to himself, and he’ll be able to escape from the Luckson Lunacy any time he needs to.

I won’t have the same luxury, but I’m used to the insanity of my family. Sort of.

We gather our bags and shuffle toward the exit when it’s our turn, the anticipation buzzing in the air. As we leave the plane and step onto the jetway, the cold air hits me like a blast from an industrial freezer.

I shiver. “Welcome to New York,” I mutter, pulling my coat tighter around me.

“Feels breezy,” Elliott says over his shoulder, and thankfully, I don’t have to respond as we file up the jetway and into the terminal. “I’ve never been here before,” he says once we’re in the airport. “We go…”

“This way to baggage claim,” I say, and I step slightly in front of him, as I’ve been here loads of times.

I lead the way through the busy, holiday-traveler airport, dodging families, strollers, and cleaning carts. “It’s only about forty-five minutes to my parents’ house,” I say once we arrive at baggage claim.

Elliott doubles over and sucks at the air. “Are we trying to win a race?”

“Oh, stop it,” I say. “You walk twice as fast as me.”

“Not like that.” He straightens and grins at me. “That was im-press-ive.”

I look over to him and fix on my best eagle eyes. “Maybe my mom will time us.”

He blinks and then starts to laugh. “You’re not kidding.”

“I wish.” I glance at the offensive baggage claim, which has not started to spit out luggage yet, and then over to the restrooms. “I’m going to go to the bathroom and then get in line for the rental car.”

“I’ll get the bags,” he says, and I take the first step away when he adds, “Wait. There’s no way I can roll your bag around as if it’s mine.”

I turn toward him, my irritation and nerves combining into a dangerous cocktail. “What is wrong with my bag?” I ask evenly.

His smile is so dangerous—to my health and my heart. I also want to scratch it off his face. “It’s bright purple with even brighter—neon—bubbles all over it.”

“Yes,” I say without moving my lips or even parting my teeth. “I’ll see you over by the Enterprise counter.” With that, I walk away, because my luggage is cute , and I’m not going to let my best friend, boyfriend, or any combination of the two degrade it. Plus, I need to go to the bathroom in a decent way, and maybe I jetted here in an attempt to text my mom that yes! We’re already at baggage claim!

I don’t know why I keep playing my mother’s games. I need to take a page out of Elliott’s book and make up my own. I don’t have to follow her rules anymore. I don’t have to race from my plane to her house in less than an hour. I can stop for coffee if I want to. Elliott and I can go to dinner.

My stomach clenches as the thought of showing up at my parents’ house un-hungry, because I can guarantee Momma will have a feast on the table, waiting for us.

I still want some McDonald’s fries, so I can go into the house in a better mood.

Twenty minutes later, I find Elliott sitting on a bench with his bag right in front of him and mine…loitering a few feet away, like someone might come by and grab it, ridding him of the fuchsia nuisance.

“Ready?” I ask.

Elliott looks up from his phone, and he’s removed his glasses. For a moment, he seems so pure, so out of the moment, somewhere inside his head. “Good?”

“Yes,” I say, holding up the key to the midsize SUV I rented for this trip. Both of my sisters and my brother said they’d come pick us up at the airport, but then we’d be trapped at the mansion, solely relying on my family for every single thing.

Trust me, a car is absolutely necessary. The way the wind howls down the sidewalk just outside the airport is so not, and I bend my head into the gale as we make our way to the appointed parking stall.

“It’s that bright blue one,” I say. “Can you handle the color of it?” I shoot him a pointed look, but he only smiles.

“Cars can be any color.”

“I never have a problem finding my suitcase,” I say as she rumbles along nicely beside me.

I let him put our baggage in the back as I get behind the wheel and adjust the seat, the steering wheel, the air, and the radio.

Elliott gets in the passenger seat beside me, looks at me, and then reaches for me.

“Don’t be so stressed, kitty-cat,” he whispers just before he kisses me. I can definitely get used to this type of delay, and I kiss him back until my phone shrills out my mother’s text notification.

He pulls back too, and we both look down at my device. The text swishes away before I can truly read it, and I sigh as I look out the window. “We’ve been summoned.”

“Let’s join the royal party,” Elliott says, and I fall in a little bit in love with him with those simple words.