Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie followed the crowd of passengers off the plane and into the airport while battling the surge of light-headedness that threatened to consume her. She could do this. She was a twenty-seven-year-old woman, for crying out loud. She handled country-western singers with egos the size of Texas. Surely she could find her way to the well-marked baggage claim. Beck had said he’d meet her there. Once she set her sights on him, everything would be fine.

She didn’t want to admit to herself how much she’d missed him over the past couple of days. She’d grown used to seeing his scruffy smile every morning, even the ones where he didn’t wake up in her bed. She even missed the whirring and spitting of his fancy-schmancy coffee machine. He’d exposed her to what good coffee could taste like, and she’d come to depend on his skinny vanilla lattes to start her days.

After what seemed like a five-mile tour of the airport, she finally reached the luggage carousel. She’d been so focused on reuniting with her suitcase that she hadn’t let herself take a good look at her surroundings. While she waited for the conveyor belt to start turning, she let herself soak in the atmosphere of the big city.

The baggage claim area held an overflowing melting pot of humanity—every kind of person she could imagine and even some she’d never be able to come up with on her own. Groups of foreign businessmen mingled with flustered moms toting strollers and holding the tiny hands of toddlers. Some women looked like they’d stepped off a runway; others looked like they’d stepped off a street corner. Teens with low-slung jeans bopped by, giant headphones covering their ears. The man next to her lifted the lid off a cardboard container and dug into some sort of garlic, gingery noodle dish with a plastic fork.

Charlie’s stomach growled in response. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast and only gotten a packet of pretzels on the plane. Cash didn’t dispense advice very often, so she’d taken his recommendation to heart and downed two little bottles of whiskey en route to New York. The drinks had made the time pass faster and also aided in keeping her blood pressure within normal range. But the little buzz she’d acquired had worn off, and the only thing that would settle her nerves now would be wrapping her arms around her own personal comfort item: Beck Holiday. Where was he anyway? The carousel began to turn, and the passengers surged toward the first few bags moving down the belt.

Roller bag trailing behind her, Charlie stepped through automatic sliding glass doors into the humid haze of a steamy early August afternoon. Maybe she’d misunderstood and Beck had meant he’d meet her at the curb. The suffocating scent of exhaust assaulted her nose, and she squinted against the glare of the sun reflecting off so much metal. She reached the curb and dug through her purse for her phone. Oh gosh, she’d never turned it back on when the plane had landed. What if he’d been trying to call all along?

While she waited for her phone to boot up, she propped her sunglasses on her nose and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. Groups of travelers swarmed around her, jumping into cabs, limos, and town cars. She’d never felt more alone in her entire life. The phone rang in her hand, and Beck’s number flashed across the screen. Thank God. As she slid her thumb across the screen to answer, someone bumped her from behind. The phone flew from her hand and landed facedown in the street a few feet in front of her. She scrambled after it and immediately soared into the air and back onto the curb.

“You trying to get yourself killed, lady?”

She struggled to stand and faced the person who’d manhandled her to safety. “My phone.”

A yellow cab screeched to a halt in front of her at the curb. On top of her phone.

“No, no, no.” Charlie couldn’t do a thing while a businessman loaded his carry-on and briefcase into the trunk of the cab. The second it sped away, she stepped off the curb and evaluated her phone. Or what was left of it. Her hot-pink case lay in pieces across a three-foot patch of concrete. Her screen had split into a gazillion pieces, and the button she’d used to turn it on and off had disappeared.

Her heart dropped into her boots. Jackson—a copy of her message from Jackson had been on that phone. Sure, she still had a copy saved to her hard drive at home. But this was the one she carried with her, her day-to-day connection with her past.

On the verge of losing her grip on control, she took in a few deep breaths. As hard as it was to face the truth, she couldn’t bring her phone back to life any more than she could bring back Jackson. Even though it hurt like hell, she knew deep down inside it was time to let him go. She couldn’t walk toward a future with Beck, whatever that might look like, if she still had both feet firmly planted in the past.

A horn blared, and an angry driver thrust a middle finger her way. What a welcome. She had half a mind to get right back on a plane and head home. The other half of her mind wanted nothing more than to burrow into Beck’s side. Where could he be?

* * *

Beck hurried through the baggage claim area. No Charlie in sight. She couldn’t have up and left. Where would she go? She had to be terrified. For him, jumping from city to city had been a way of life. For Charlie, just getting her to agree to leave Texas had been a major accomplishment. It had been crazy to push this trip on her in the first place. They’d finally reached some neutral ground where they weren’t fighting over everything all the time. She’d loosened the reins on the Rose, and they seemed to be growing closer together rather than further apart.

And now…this.

He ducked through the sliding glass doors to see if she’d stepped outside. His heart kicked into high gear at the sight of her. Shoulders hunched, boots tapping on the pavement while she hugged her purse to her chest, she perched on the edge of a bench near the taxi stand.

“Charlie.”

Her head lifted at the sound of his voice. Relief flooded her face, and as she launched herself at him, he caught her in his arms.

Between kisses she half-heartedly ripped him a new one. “You’re”—smack—“late!”—smack—“I”—smack—“thought you”—smack—“weren’t coming.”

“Hey.” He pulled back, meeting her gaze. “I promised you I’d be here. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she settled her cheek against his chest. “I dropped my phone. A cab ran over it. Everything’s gone. My pictures, my contacts, my message from Jackson.”

“Oh, Charlie. I’m so sorry.”

“When you weren’t here, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about me coming.”

“I would never change my mind about having you here, okay?”

She nodded, finally letting her grip loosen. “Okay.”

“We’ll get you a new phone. I can’t replace the message for you.”

“I haven’t even listened to it in months. Just having it with me made me feel…I don’t know, like he was still with me in some way.”

“He’ll always be with you.”

“I know. Sitting here, waiting for you, I realized I don’t need to have that message with me all the time. He would have wanted me to move on.”

“Sounds like Jackson was a smart man.”

She smiled up at him. “He was.”

He pulled her against him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get you into the city. My dad wants to meet you before he leaves on his cruise tomorrow. Are you up for that?” He grabbed the handle of her bag with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. “If you’d rather chill tonight, we can head back to my place.”

“No, I’m fine.” She offered a smile that appeared to require a bit of effort. “I’d love to meet your dad. Have you talked to him about Sully yet?”

“I haven’t had the chance. But I will before he leaves tomorrow.” He kissed the top of her head as he led her back through the baggage claim area toward short-term parking.

She tucked her arm around his waist, hooking her finger through one of his belt loops. “You’re wearing your Levi’s.”

“Wanted you to feel at home.”

The smile on her face was worth the look of disgust his dad had given him as he careened out of the office in boots and jeans. He cared about her more than anyone he’d been with in the past. But he still didn’t know what came next.

Once he rode in the Founder’s Day parade, he’d have the title of the Rambling Rose free and clear. He’d pass it on to his dad, get the go-ahead for the park in the Bronx, and come back to New York. But where would that leave him and Charlie?

He pushed the nagging thought out of his mind. Better to enjoy the here and now than spend a bunch of time and energy worrying about a decision that was still months away. No, not months. The months had shrunk into weeks. Time had a way of doing that recently, passing by faster than he wanted it to.

The taillights on his Porsche blinked and the horn beeped as he pressed the button on his key fob.

Charlie stopped, tilting a wide-eyed gaze his direction. “That’s your car?”

“Yeah. Let me toss your bag in the back, and I’ll get the door for you.”

She stood by the trunk while he stowed her suitcase. “You sure you fit in this roller skate?” Her gaze swept up and down his frame, from his head to his toes, making him wish he hadn’t agreed to dinner with his dad so they could head back to his place.

“Plenty of room, I promise.” He held the door open for her so she could slide inside.

By the time he walked around to the driver’s side door, she’d buckled her seat belt and had one hand wrapped around the handle above her head.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’ve just never ridden in a vehicle shorter than me. Trucks, SUVs, and whatnot. I feel like a semi could drive right over us in this tiny tin can.”

Beck unsuccessfully tried to stifle a grin. “Who’s the fish out of water now, sweetheart?”

“I know, turnabout’s fair play. You’re not going to feed me anything weird, are you?”

“What, like cow balls?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you then. Not like I know you now. I figured you were some hot-shot real estate tycoon sniffin’ around to make a quick buck. I’d have fed you bull balls and pig’s feet or whatever it would have taken to knock you down a notch or two.”

“Well, thank God you stopped at bull balls. If you’d have fed me pig’s feet, it would have been all over before it even started.”

She twisted to face him, probably trying to get a read on whether he was joking.

“How do you feel about sushi?”

“Isn’t that raw fish?” A furrow appeared between her eyebrows.

He backed the car out of the parking space and navigated through the narrow aisles of the lot. “You’re going to love it.”

“I don’t know, Beck. Didn’t you say you had some sort of barbecue place near your apartment?”

The car revved as he pulled into traffic, heading back into the city. He shifted into fourth and covered her hand with his. “You’re on my turf now, little lady. And what was that you said a few minutes ago? Something about turnabout’s fair play? Well, get ready to go for a spin then because I’m going to take you on the ride of your life.”