Holiday Wedding (Holiday Romance-Spicy Version #2)

20

Saturday, December 21

3 days until the wedding

Gwen

What do you mean, the flight’s been canceled?” I ask the airline agent, my elbows propped on the counter.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Wright, but a weather system on the East Coast is disrupting flight patterns. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got you booked on the next plane out of here. You’ll only be delayed by an hour.”

Thank goodness.

I head back to the food court where Alvina and Wayne are eating lunch. “One-hour delay,” I announce and sit across from them.

I’m tired, my eyelids heavy. Staying up every night to talk to Caleb has worn me out. I still haven’t told him about my lecture or the mean girls at the airport. I haven’t mentioned how I was in the restroom at the conference and overheard some female doctors talking about how hot he is. About how I don’t deserve him. They’d gone silent, guiltily shifting their eyes when I came out to wash my hands. It weighs on me. I’m used to sharing everything with him. But what good would telling Caleb do, anyway? Besides make him feel guilty and potentially drive him away? I think about these things late at night. I toss and turn, worrying about the future.

Caleb.

My career.

Wondering how to balance it all.

“That’s what they always say,” Wayne offers, taking a large bite of his steak and bean burrito. He chews and washes it down with a slurp of coffee. “Right before all the flights get canceled.”

His words strike terror in my heart. My voice pitches high, tight with anxiety. “They can’t cancel. The wedding’s in a few days.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Alvina says. She jabs an elbow into Wayne’s ribs.

He grunts, sending her a side-eye look, then adds a half-hearted, “Yeah, fine.”

Sitting back, I assess the two of them, noting how they ignore each other and yet their legs are pressed against each other. I’ve given them this entire trip to tell me the truth. I thought that surely they would come to me and divulge their relationship. What did I get for my confidence in them? Nothing. Big fat nothing. They’ve lied to me, and it hurts.

I’m sick of waiting on them, so I look in their faces and calmly ask, “How long have you been dating each other?”

Wayne spits out his coffee across the table, choking. Some droplets land on my arm.

Gross.

An announcement overhead calls our names. Hastily, we gather our things. As we walk over, I tell them, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the two of you. We are going to talk about this eventually.”

Wayne takes a sudden interest in the tip of his shoes, refusing to look at me. He’s chewing gum, probably that nicotine kind, so aggressively that I worry he’ll break a tooth. Once we get to the gate, there’s a long line of people waiting to speak with the agent. I want to grill Wayne and Alvina, but this doesn’t seem like the place for it. Not with this many people around. After minutes, we reach the front of the line.

“Your flight has been canceled,” says the agent.

“I knew it,” Wayne says, slamming his hand down on the counter, making us all jump.

Panic rises in me. “You don’t understand,” I tell her, my voice getting louder by the minute. “I have a wedding to get to. My wedding. I’m the bride.” I want to crawl over the countertop and snatch that computer out of her hands so I can book a flight back to Caleb.

The agent keeps a wary eye on me. “I’ve taken the liberty of booking you on another plane to New York. It has a layover in Denver.”

“What?” I wave the now-useless boarding pass in front of her. “That’s the reason we picked this flight, because it’s nonstop.”

“Sorry, but this is your best bet to get home.” She hands over new boarding passes. “It boards in 15 minutes in the terminal next door. You’ll have to hurry.”

I tug my backpack higher on my shoulders and tighten the strap on my fanny pack. Darn it, now they’ve got me calling it that. I mentally repeat, waist bag, waist bag, waist bag.

Then we’re off running, shooting down escalators and past the travelers who calmly ride the moving sidewalk. We’re not those people anymore. We are crazy people, desperate not to miss our flight. All I want is to see Caleb tonight.

We rush onto the small train that travels between terminals and collapse into its hard plastic chairs. It moves quickly, with drab concrete walls flashing by on either side. I have about five seconds to text Caleb and tell him of our change in plans. There’s no time to wait for his response. The door slides open, and we hurry out. Then it’s back up another escalator, down two hallways, and we finally reach our gate, where the last passenger has just entered the jet bridge, leaving the waiting area empty. Short of breath, we scan our tickets and board only to discover that most of the seats are taken. The flight attendant helps us each find a spot, but they’re rows away from each other.

We’re separated.