Christmas Cancellation

1. Noelle

Chapter one

“ L ife’s a bitch, and then you die,” I muttered, expelling an exasperated breath and dropping into one of the stiff, faux-leather seats by Gate 73. I shoved my coat through the handles of my suitcase and tossed my new Dior tote into the seat next to me. It hadn’t just been one of those days; it had been a no-good, rotten week. Actually, my life had sucked in general since that night four years ago. Today was merely another example of the dark cloud that had moved in and taken up permanent residence over my head.

Since my plans for today had been screwed up big time, I scrolled through my phone, desperate for a miracle. Maybe I could rent a car? Nope. Nothing. Nada. The screen mocked me with a big, fat “No Availability.” Every car in the city had been snatched up by other stranded passengers and holiday visitors. Okay, maybe a hotel room? I tapped through a few options, only to find that the cheapest one was some no-name motel charging three times its regular rate, all because it was the holiday season. At the moment, my only option was my seat at Gate 73. Perfect. Just perfect. I was stuck, stranded, and hopeless.

I needed to vent. Needed Amanda. She was the only one I could count on to talk me off the ledge—my best friend, my ride-or-die, the one person who always had my back. Ever since I moved to Atlanta to start at the Martindale Agency as a social media coordinator, she’d been there for me, literally and figuratively. I’d met her the day I moved into my apartment, when her goldendoodle knocked me on my ass in the hallway and slobbered all over me. And instead of being pissed, I’d laughed, because who could stay mad with a face full of goldendoodle?

Right now, I’d have preferred to be in her apartment, a glass of wine in hand, with that goofy dog sprawled across my lap, than stuck here in this damn airport, waiting for a flight that wasn’t going to happen.

I yanked my earbuds out of my tote and shoved them into my ears—hoping to muffle the annoyingly cheerful holiday music that was being piped through the airport speakers—then dialed Amanda’s number, and waited. She picked up after the second ring.

“Hey, girl. What’s up?” she asked. Fluffers barked in the background.

“Hey!” I replied.

The guy sitting across the aisle jerked back a little, startled, as his head snapped up from his phone. I’d shouted, forgetting how loud I could be with the earbuds in.

“You will not believe this,” I said. “My flight’s canceled. The leg to Albany. So, now I’m stuck in LaGuardia with no rental cars, no hotels, and a snowstorm that’s apparently bad enough to ruin my life but not bad enough to be visible. Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

Amanda laughed softly. “Well, shit. I’m sorry, babe. Did you talk to the gate agent? Can they rebook you?”

“Oh, sure, I talked to the gate agent. She smiled at me as if I was a toddler who lost her balloon. Then, in her oh-so-fake-nice voice, told me the weather was to blame—it was out of her control. An act of God. That’s it. No options, no nothing for today. They’re saying they can rebook me for tomorrow night at the earliest. Which is great and all, except I need to be at the attorney’s office today to sign those papers.” I let out an exasperated huff. “Just add it to the list of things that have gone wrong this week.”

“God, Noelle. I’m not sure what to say,” Amanda replied. “That…sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” I all but shrieked, my voice hitting an out-of-control pitch. “And don’t even get me started on the airlines. They don’t give a crap about passengers. You know, ‘ Oh, sorry, folks. We’re screwing you over, but it’s fine because we’re blaming it on the weather .’ But there’s no freakin’ weather! I can see out the giant windows overlooking the tarmac, and my phone says it’s thirty-four degrees and partly cloudy. Partly cloudy, Amanda! What storm?”

“Noelle, calm down and breathe before you pass out, okay?”

I inhaled, catching the smell of Cinnabon—sickly sweet—making my stomach churn. “I’m pretty sure the flight’s half full, and am guessing the greedy airline doesn’t want to waste money flying to Albany. Or it’s some pilot who didn’t want to work today. Most likely wanted to be home, drinking eggnog with his perfect little family.”

Amanda snorted. “You think a pilot called in sick? ‘ Hey, boss, got holiday fatigue. Can’t make it to Albany today. ’”

“Exactly!” I shouted, earning me a few irritated glances from people sitting nearby. The guy across the aisle scowled at me. “Or perhaps the entire crew is sitting at Starbucks right now drinking hot cocoa, laughing their asses off, and contemplating ways they can ruin people’s Christmas since they have to work.”

“Do pilots even drink hot cocoa?”

“Shut up, Amanda. It’s a metaphor.”

“Pretty sure it’s not,” she said, laughing into the phone. “I don’t think that’s how metaphors work, Noelle. You’re being paranoid. Maybe it’s only bad luck. Or maybe—”

“No. No, this is a conspiracy. Who cancels a flight to Albany on Christmas Eve, Eve? It’s practically un-American! I bet the crew is trying to avoid rowdy passengers excited for the holidays. God forbid anybody be happy on Christmas. Or maybe they’re screwing with us for fun, always keeping us in suspense—guessing if our flight will, in reality, make it out, as though it were some twisted holiday thriller.”

“Okay, now you’re just making random stuff up.”

“Am I?” I threw my hands up. “Who the hell cancels a flight for partly cloudy ? I’m telling you, Amanda, it’s the airline or some lazy pilot with a God complex.”

Amanda chuckled again. “Calm down. You sound like a maniac. As if you actually believe the universe is out to get you.”

“Yeah, well, the universe can bite me,” I said, laughing. By now, several people were staring at me. I could tell I was annoying the hell out of them with my ridiculous ramblings. I didn’t care. What did it matter? I was stuck here, my life falling apart around me, and now the universe had decided to pile on more nonsense. I was fully aware I was acting unhinged, but considering all the wine I’d had earlier and the deplorable circumstances I found myself in, unhinged was the best I could do. “Just so you know, if I ever meet the person who made the decision to cancel this flight, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. And possibly a swift kick in the shin. ”

“Good luck with that, Noelle. And lower your voice a little. I’m sure everyone in the terminal can hear you, and the last thing you need is to be arrested.”

I shrugged. “Oh, everyone’s too busy plotting their own escape routes to care.”

With a frown, I snatched up my phone and started furiously scrolling again, searching for a hotel or a rental car. At this point, I would take anything.

Digging my heels into the floor beneath me, I groused into the phone, “There are no rental cars anywhere in the city. Absolutely none. And the hotels? Not a single room in the entire area unless I want to shell out a couple of grand for some five-star suite with a chandelier in the bathroom or risk my life at a fleabag charging triple their normal rate.”

Amanda sighed. “Of course they’d price gouge right before Christmas. It’s all about the money.”

“Yeah, and guess who doesn’t have that kind of cash lying around? Me. The girl who lost her shot at a promotion and just quit her job because her snake of a boyfriend stabbed her in the back.” I was sure Amanda was rolling her eyes at the mention of Blake.

“I always hated that guy,” she said. “Remember, I warned you? I told you he was a fake, selfish jerk, only out for himself.”

I sighed. “Yeah, you did. And you were right. He was a walking red flag. I just…I wanted to believe he was different. I mean, he was hot and charming when he wanted to be, and I thought…well, you know what I thought.”

“You thought he was the one,” Amanda finished for me. “But instead, he was a jackass who played you. He didn’t deserve you, either. You’re too good for him, Noelle. You always were.”

I swallowed, and a lump formed in my throat. “I don’t get it, Amanda. Why is it always me? Why is it always my life that’s a damn train wreck? It’s like…it’s like, ever since…” I glanced around the bustling gate area. The emotion started to push its way up, but I wasn’t about to cry here, not in front of all these strangers. “It’s as if I’ve been cursed or something. Nothing ever goes right.” I lowered my voice. “You know, I shouldn’t have quit. I should have just sucked it up at least until I could find another job. But my pride got the better of me, and here I am.”

Amanda knew better than to push me. She remained quiet for a beat, waiting, and I pictured her biting her lip, trying to find the right words to say.

“Noelle, Blake did you dirty. You’re human. You had every reason in the world to quit,” she finally said. “And you’re also strong. You’ve been through a lot and have handled it all better than most people—so much better than I ever could have.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired of handling it,” I said softly, trying to blink away the prickle in my eyes. The bustle around me—the blaring announcements over the intercom, the rumble of suitcase wheels, the hurried conversations—blurred together into one chaotic buzz, and frustration frayed my last nerve. “I’d hoped to make it in the nick of time to the attorney’s office to receive whatever it is my aunt left me. I’d hoped it was going to be some money or something I could sell to tide me over until I found another job. But now that’s not happening. Looks like I’ll be going on a starvation or dumpster-diving diet… I want something to go right for once. Just once. Is that too much to ask?”

“It’s not. It’s not at all,” Amanda said in that reassuring, motherly voice that I both loved and hated. “But sitting in that airport isn’t going to change anything. Maybe…maybe you need to get out of the terminal. Take a walk and—”

“Where the hell am I supposed to go, Amanda?” I snapped more loudly than I’d intended. “I’m trapped here. ”

She didn’t say anything for a moment; she simply let me stew in my misery. “You’re not trapped, Noelle. It’s only a setback. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Sure,” I scoffed. “Like I figured out Blake? Like I figured out how to stop my life from going to hell after…” I shook my head, the words catching in my throat. “Never mind. I just wish things were different. I wish…I wish a lot of things. I’m sorry to unload on you. Thanks for letting me vent though. I’m so lucky to have a friend who listens when I’m going off the rails and isn’t afraid to set me straight. God knows we’ve both been there for each other when life’s thrown the worst at us.”

Amanda snorted. “You’re right about that. And don’t think I’ve forgotten how much I owe you for dealing with my meltdown over that lying, cheating, wannabe country star, Jason Owens, who couldn’t keep his pants zipped if his life depended on it. If you hadn’t dragged my sorry ass out of that pity party, I’d still be hiding under my blankets, binge-watching rom-coms on Netflix and eating pint after pint of ice cream.”

I chuckled and then let out a long sigh. “You’ve got that right. It was clear I had to intervene when I came over that day and pint containers were stacked in a pyramid like champagne glasses at a wedding.”

She giggled even though, at the time, she’d been the most miserable I’d ever seen her. I crossed my legs and relaxed into my seat, catching sight of a pilot standing at the gate agent’s station. He glanced over his shoulder, shooting me a side-eye that could have killed. His presence registered, but at the moment, I didn’t care if he had heard my rant. I was past caring. Let him think what he wanted.

“Ugh, I’ve got to escape this airport, make my way to Saratoga, sign those papers, and wrap this part of my life up. But, naturally, the universe has different plans.” I took a deep breath, contemplating my lack of options. “Hmm, I know…I’ll hitchhike,” I joked.

“Yeah, and end up as the next victim of a serial killer. I don’t think so,” Amanda snapped. “It would be better to lose whatever your aunt is giving you in her will than end up dead trying to get home.”

Out of nowhere, Mr. Captain strutted over with an air of authority, stopping right in front of me, his expression screaming, I’m about to school you . Damn, I loved a guy who thought he was capable of taking me on, a man who looked as though he was about to start a war. Oh, yeah…let’s fight, hot stuff.

He was tall, and his broad shoulders filled out his uniform in a way that made me clench my thighs together. His dark, wavy hair was casually tousled, with that perfect balance of messy and stylish. And those brown eyes flecked with gold? Dangerous. Oh my God. He was a total daddy. So fucking hot. Seriously, how was this man so gorgeous? Any man in a uniform was sexy as hell, but this guy? Holy moly.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, his tone brooking no argument. His voice was like gravel mixed with honey whiskey—a hint of rough around the edges but smooth enough to go down easy.

I blinked up at him, trying to play it cool. Oh, shit. He actually looked as if he wanted to murder me, and that wasn’t some fantasy in my head. “Uh, Amanda, I gotta go,” I mumbled. Not waiting for her reply, my thumb jabbed the “End Call” button.

I shrugged nonchalantly as I popped my earbuds out. This was a challenge I was more than up for. Let’s play . “It’s a public space,” I said, crossing my arms. “You don’t need my permission.”

He didn’t crack a smile, didn’t even blink, just lowered himself into the chair next to me like he owned the place. The fabric of his jacket appeared ready to burst from the strain of his bulging muscles. His eyes flicked my way for a second before he turned to stare out the window. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together, ignoring me for a minute. Tension radiated from him.

“All your assumptions about the cancellation are total bullshit,” he said calmly, but his words had a sharp edge to them.

I stiffened, not expecting the bluntness. Who did this guy think he was, anyway? But before I could snap back, he continued.

“First of all,” he said, lifting his hands to make air quotes, “the tarmac isn’t a place. It’s a product used as a surface coating for roads and airfields. What you’re looking at out there, where all the people and equipment are, is called the ramp. That’s where planes are parked and serviced. The taxiways are the”—more air quotes—“ roads planes use to move to and from the runways. And the runways? That’s where airplanes take off and land.”

He rattled this off as though he was a kindergarten teacher explaining the ABCs. My eyebrows shot up; I was taken aback by his unexpected aviation lesson.

“Okay,” I said slowly, giving him my best who the hell cares look. “Thanks for the…clarification.”

He didn’t acknowledge my sarcasm. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, tapped it a few times, and then shoved it in front of my face. “Second, the information on weather apps isn’t always accurate. We pilots use a TAF—the official FAA forecast for aviation. It tells us if the weather is dropping below the minimums for ceilings or visibility at either the departure or arrival airports and whether we can be legally dispatched for a flight. We use a whole host of meteorological tools, dispatchers, and meteorologists to determine if the weather’s good enough to fly. It’s not as simple as looking out the window, sweetheart.”

His words stung, not because he was wrong, but because he was being a dick about being right. I blinked, staring at the jumble of numbers and letters on his screen. “I—”

“Basically,” he said, rudely cutting me off, “for this flight, the rules say we can take off but we can’t land at Albany. We don’t have a choice in the matter.” He huffed.

“And thirdly, so that you’re more grounded in reality, the number of passengers on a flight doesn’t determine whether it goes or stays. We don’t just cancel flights because there aren’t enough people on board. Planes need to be positioned for their next scheduled leg, and there are strict FAA regulations. It’s not about saving a few bucks or skipping a leg because we’re feeling lazy. The airline would get fined up the ass if we pulled a stunt like that.”

I glanced down at his chest, catching sight of the name badge below his wings. “Yes, sir, Captain Vinter.” What kind of name was Vinter? Sounded like something out of a Norse myth. Made sense, I guess. Everything about him screamed Viking—he was all hard lines and had a gaze frigid enough to freeze hell over.

He leaned back, turning to rest his elbow on the back of the seat, his dark eyes locking onto me. His jaw was clenched with the kind of look that made it clear he wasn’t here to play games. “I want to make this flight happen as much as you do because I don’t want to be stuck here either. I didn’t haul my ass into work just to sit around and listen to bratty girls complain. We aren’t paid for delays or for listening to girls like you yap. I only get paid when the jet is moving.”

His gruff words hit me square in the chest. I snapped my mouth shut, unsure whether to be pissed off or impressed by the way he’d put me in my place so easily.

I moved around in my seat, trying to get comfortable and failing as the armrest dug into my back, and sighed. Dropping my hands in my lap, I glanced down from his dark, steady glare, my cheeks burning from more than the heat of the conversation. My skin prickled with irritation at being called out by Mr. Captain here. I deserved it, though. It wasn’t fair to rip into the airlines or make accusations about pilots, especially during this busy season when they were all working their asses off.

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” I muttered, glancing back up at him. “Sorry for being dramatic as fuck. I was just ranting to my friend. Taking my frustration out on the airline and the crew was a bit much, maybe. I know it’s not your fault the flight got canceled… It’s just…I’m having a really shitty day.”

He stood and sneered as he pocketed his phone. Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Could my life be any more pathetic? The way he had scolded me had whisked me back to my elementary school classroom—standing red-faced in front of the class, murmuring an apology. My eyes dropped to the floor as I let out a frustrated sigh. “God, I wish I’d never been born.”

His footsteps paused, his boots scuffing against the tile before he continued moving, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I slumped down in my chair, biting my lip to keep it from trembling. Blake’s face flashed in my mind—the smug grin he’d had on his face yesterday in the office, the way he’d paraded around as if he’d won some grand prize after screwing me over, the swagger he’d donned when he’d walked into my office acting like he’d done me a favor by ending our relationship before telling me he was now my boss.

His words replayed in my mind: “ No hard feelings, right?” As though he was merely my buddy, parting ways with me after a casual lunch, not a man who had made me fall in love with him and then stolen my work.

Why was it so impossible to find anyone to love me? Was that really so difficult? Guys today sucked. Really, they did; it couldn’t be me, right? That was what I kept trying to convince myself of. But deep down, I knew better. Of course it was me. Me. I was the problem.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the sting in my eyes. I wasn’t a bad person. I didn’t lie; I didn’t cheat—I didn’t hurt people on purpose. But I was…a lot. I was loud, emotional, and undoubtedly a bit of a drama queen when I’d had a glass or three of wine, like today. Mr. Captain over there probably thought I was a total bitch after that little display on the phone with Amanda. I didn’t blame him. I wore my heart on my sleeve, especially when I was pissed off. It was beyond my control. I’d never learned to play it cool or keep my mouth shut.

I twisted in my seat again, trying to find some comfort that didn’t exist. The gate area buzzed with activity, people moving to and fro, while I sat here dejected. I was frustrated about everything. I was upset about being stuck here and pissed about how my life was unraveling in a dozen different directions. My vision blurred as the emotions bubbled up, spilling over in hot, silent tears that rolled down my face. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my comfy gray sweater dress, hating that my world was crashing down around me.