Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Katherine sees Lolo’s name. The smiling face. She has to.
But instead of asking the question I don’t want to answer, my ex simply says, “Hold on. You need this.”
I watch as she digs around in the outer pocket of her bag, pulling out her phone charger and dangling the cord in front of me.
“Oh.” I’m surprised. “Thanks.”
“Aren’t you glad I went back for my purse now?” she says gleefully.
I give her a dark, well-deserved glare. Her smile only grows.
I grab the charger because she’s right. I do need it. Other than a few minutes on the train that we actually managed to get on, I haven’t charged my phone since this morning, and the battery’s down to 12 percent.
Katherine points in the direction of uncomfortable-looking chairs along a wall. “Outlet on the left.”
I give her a suspicious look. “Why are you being so helpful?”
“Slightly guilty conscience,” she says, holding up her fingers to indicate a minuscule amount. “Don’t worry. It’ll pass soon.”
“Uh-huh.” By the time I sit in the chair and then scoot awkwardly down in the seat to accommodate the short length of the cord, I’ve missed the call. I hit redial, and for a split second, I hope Lolo won’t pick up.
She does, of course. First ring.
“Hey, you!” she says in her comforting, mellow voice. “How goes the journey?”
“Um.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It doesn’t?”
Her smile slips. “Oh no. What’s going on?”
“Well . . . that’s a long story.”
“One you’ll be able to tell me in person shortly though, right?” she asks teasingly, her smile back, if not as bright.
“Lo. I’m so sorry. I’m still in Buffalo, and I missed the last train of the night.”
“Tom.” It’s more exhale than anything else.
“I know.”
“But you’ll still be here. For Christmas Eve?”
“I’ll be there,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “I swear to you. It may be the actual eve, but I’ll be there.”
I rest my hand atop the ring in my bag. To propose.
Why does that word feel so brittle?
Lolo tucks her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Okay. But . . . how?”
My gaze cuts across the room to Katherine, who’s going from vacant rental car counter to rental car counter, rummaging around where she should absolutely not be, as though hoping to find a spare set of keys that the employees left behind.
For a moment, I’m glad that it’s Katherine I’m stuck with. Not only is she quick-thinking in a crisis, but she has a blatant disregard for rules, social norms, and anything that stands in her way.
If anyone can find a solution, it’s her.
Ironic, considering she’s also the problem.
“I’m working on it,” I tell Lolo, careful not to bring undue attention to my traveling partner. Easygoing as Lo is, I doubt she needs the reminder.
“So . . . what happened?” Lolo asks, and I think I hear an unspoken this time tacked on to the end.
Katherine happened.
“We missed the connecting train,” I say instead.
Lolo’s eyes narrow for a fraction of a second, although I don’t know if it’s my use of the word we or suspicion that I’m leaving out crucial details.
Then her features smooth out as though she’s deliberately decided to let it go, and I try to remember that this is what I like about her. Love about her, I quickly amend. Unlike Katherine, who has to make a federal case every time she has an opinion about something—which is always—Lolo opts to let things go if they’ll cause friction.
“Okay, so no train. Are there any planes getting out of Buffalo? Given the storm.”
“We’re not that lucky. But we’re looking into getting a rental car!” Somehow I manage to say this with absolute optimism as though I’m not omitting the rather important detail that there are no rental cars.
“A rental car? Won’t that take even longer than the train?”
Yes.
“I don’t have a lot of options, sweetheart,” I say gently. “This huge storm has wreaked havoc on an already busy travel time.”
She lets out a little laugh and runs her fingers through her blond hair. “And to think, Planes, Trains and Automobiles was one of my favorite movies growing up. I’ll never watch it the same way now.”
I laugh because, until this moment, I haven’t really had a spare moment to think about the similarities between my journey and Steve Martin’s. Obviously I’m Neal Page in this situation, the part of the duo that’s stuck with an unwanted someone.
I glance around at Katherine, who’s talking to a twentysomething couple with enormous backpacks. One of them has a neck tattoo; the other’s winter jacket has a spiderweb pattern. I hope to God she’s not asking them for advice.
Katherine looks my way and, much the same way she did at the airport when I was talking to Lolo, taps on her watch impatiently, as though I’m the one holding us back.