Driving while trying to book a flight on your Southwest app is a really bad idea. Parking your car and not caring where isn’t good either.
I run through the airport like a bat out of hell. I just need to make his flight. That’s all I ask. I have thirty minutes to get through security and get to the gate. Thank God I have TSA Pre-check.
I stand in a short line that seems to be taking longer than the long line next to it. When I finally get to the conveyor, I place my purse on the track and watch it get sucked through the X-ray machine. I step through the people checker. No alarms. Yes!
I wait for my bag and it doesn’t come out.
I tap my foot as a guard walks over to the attendant at the machine. They chat for way too long. Is he telling her about his weekend? He lifts my purse. “This yours?”
“Yes, is there a problem?”
He snaps gloves on his hands and pulls up the image on a separate screen. “What would that be right there?”
“Oh shit. I mean sorry. It’s my perfume.”
“It needs to be in an approved quart size bag. Is it less than three ounces?”
“I have no idea.”
He reaches in and slowly pulls it. I feel my heart racing. How far is the gate? Am I going to make it?
“Keep it. Or throw it away. I’m really late. Can I please go?”
“This is expensive stuff. My wife wanted it and I said hell no. Unless Walmart carries it, she ain’t getting it.”
“Take it. Give it to her with my blessing. But please, will you let me go through?” I beg. “There’s this guy and I love him and he’s about to get on a plane and I don’t want him to leave without me.”
He sighs. “You sure?”
I nod.
“All right. I’ll keep it. Go.”
I gaze down at my ticket. “Where’s Gate 28?”
“Ooh,” he says. “What time is that flight?”
“Thirty minutes. Umm . . . I glance at the clock on his computer. It’s in ten minutes!”
“It’s all the way down that corridor to your right. You’ll be lucky to make it if you run.”
My shoulders slump. Maybe this is fate telling me to quit. Maybe I’m not meant to stop him. I want to cry. Maybe if I call him . . .
“How’s your foot?” he asks.
“My what?”
“That foot. Didn’t I see you limping?” He winks.
“Umm. Yes?”
“Pedro!” he speaks into his microphone. “Where you at?”
“Security.”
“I got a priority woman with a bad foot who needs a fast ride to 28. You got it?”
The tires squeal as a cart stops in front of me.
“Thank you so much . . .” I pause to get his name.
“Nelson. Go get your boy!”
I jump on the back of the cart and hold on for dear life as Pedro drives in and out of people, honking his horn the entire way. Nelson was right, I would’ve never made it. As we get closer to the gate, I see the back of Fisher’s head as he boards the plane. They close the doors behind him.
“No!” I yell. “Wait!”
I take off running, trying to pull my ticket up on my phone at the same time. I get to the gate and the gentleman shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Once those doors are closed, I can’t open ’em.”
“But, there’s a man on that flight I really need to talk to. Please?” I beg.
“I’m sorry. No can do. If you step over to the desk, we can help get you on a different flight to Cleveland.”
“I needed to be on that flight,” I say in a whimper. I walk over to glass and stare at the plane as it backs away.
I lean my head against the window. “I should have just called him,” I say to no one.
“What would you have said?”
I spin around so quickly, I almost lose my balance. Fisher is standing before my eyes, bag in hand.
I jump into him and throw my arms around his neck, sobbing.
He pats my back lightly, but it’s different than ever before. He isn’t holding me. He’s trying to be nice. Have I lost him forever?
“You’re still here. Why? I thought I saw you get on the plane.”
“The bigger question is why are you here, Macy?”
He called me Macy. That’s not good.
“I got the shells.”
“Oh.” He resituates his backpack on his arm and glances out the window.
“You kept them.”
“Yes. But now they’re yours.”
I stare at his beautiful face. He looks tired. His face is stubbled as if he hasn’t shaved in a while. He makes very brief eye contact with me and then looks away, sighing. “Do you have something you want to say? I need to catch another flight.”
“Don’t go,” I blurt out the words the second he talks about leaving.
“Why would I stay? There’s nothing keeping me here.”
“I’m here.”
“You’re not mine.”
His words and the matter-of-fact way he says them feel like a blade slicing through my chest. “I’m so sorry, Fisher. Can you ever forgive me?”
His eyebrows furrow and he studies my face.
“I’ve been absolutely miserable. I cry constantly and I miss you. I know you tried to explain things to me and I didn’t listen. But I was angry and scared. I’ve been lied to before. I know you’re different. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, but at the time, it felt all too familiar.”
His face is stone. I’m not getting through to him at all.
“From the start, I never believed a guy like you would ever even look at a girl like me. Then slowly, you made me feel like I was enough. You made me feel like we belonged together. Then you . . . and when I . . .” I choke back the words. I can’t get them out.
He gazes at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.
I sniff away the tears and notice a group of people watching us, including Pedro on his cart. “Pedro, please. Go help some other pour soul! And to the rest of you gapers there’s nothing to see here. Move it along. Mind your own fucking business,” I shout.
I rub my nose with the back of my hand and briefly glance up at Fisher’s face. He’s smiling. “You have such a way with people.”
I cock my head to the side as a tear rolls down my cheek. “The only person I want to have my way with is you.”
He reaches out and wipes the tear away with his thumb. “You hurt me.”
My chest heaves. I manage a nod.
“And I hurt you.”
I nod once more.
“How about if we agree to never do that again?”
“Really?”
He holds his hand out to me. “Is it a deal?”
“Are we shaking on it?” I ask.
“Don’t people usually hold their hand out and say deal when they expect a hand shake?”
“I guess.”
“Well? Are you going to leave my hand out here hanging? Are you refusing my offer?”
I stare up into his eyes and he seems to read my thoughts.
“I swear to you on my life that this was never about the movie. You had my heart the second I landed on top of you on that beach. You’ve always had it and you always will.”
I place my hand in his and he pulls me forward until I crash into his chest.
“Is that a yes?”
I grip his beautiful face in my hands and smile.
“Let’s make it official.” He lowers his mouth to mine and I throw my arms around his neck. It’s the best, most important kiss of my life.
There are cheers and applause all around us. We both grin.
“Show’s over, folks,” he announces.
“It was never a show,” I reply. “It was real.”
He kisses the top of my head and breathes me in. I grasp his arms as questions burn in my mind. There are things I need to know. “Can I ask you something?”
He steps back to see my face. “Oh boy, your nose is twitching. Maybe we should sit down.” He leads me to some chairs and he drops his backpack on the floor. “Ask away.”
“Why didn’t you get on the plane?”
“Chloe called me. She said there was a chance you might be coming to try to stop me.”
“And you waited?”
“I watched the last person boarding. They asked me if I was coming and I couldn’t do it. Knowing you wanted to talk to me was enough reason for me to stay. I would’ve stayed here even if you didn’t show. Just on the off chance you might call.”
My heart aches. “You seemed so angry and cold. I didn’t think I was going to get through to you.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly sure why you wanted to see me. I was afraid it was only about the film.”
“Why did you turn it down?” I ask, touching his arm.
“That news traveled fast. The only reason I ever considered it was because of you. Without you in my life, I could never even pretend to be Penn. It would hurt too much.”
I pick the lint off my shirt and flick it to the floor. “You scared me when I found out you lied. I was worried it was the beginning of the end. The start of a long string of deception.”
“I was wrong. I promise you I’ll never lie to you again. Ever.”
I gaze up at him through the tops of my eyelashes. “Even if I ask you if my butt looks fat?”
He smirks. “Even then.”
I sigh and yawn.
“You look exhausted.”
“I haven’t slept much.”
“Me neither.”
“I don’t even remember where I parked my car.” I laugh and scratch my head.
“That’s pretty bad. I think you win. I see you didn’t pack much.”
“I didn’t pack anything.”
“What would you have done if I was on that flight?”
“I would have taken the next one.”
“Whoa, that’s some serious stalking. Should I be concerned?”
I crawl over my seat and onto his lap. “Yes. I’m your fan now. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You already said that,” he replies, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
“You didn’t seem like you believed me. You called me Macy.” I grip my heart.
“You told me to call you that.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“Are you still going to Cleveland?”
“My mom is expecting me, but I don’t think I could leave you tonight if I tried. Do you know anyone who might be willing to give me a ride and a place to stay for the night?”
I slowly raise my hand. “Assuming we can find my car.”
“If we found each other through this mess, your car should be a piece of cake.”
He leans forward and places his forehead against mine. He closes his eyes and releases a deep breath. I couldn’t have said it better myself.