Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I forfeit!” I shouted over my shoulder. “The money’s yours!”
The crowd converged again, all jumping in rhythm to the music as I eased my way through the dancers until I’d made it to the other side of the floor.
The bride had joined Izzy near the curve of the bar, and a riot of emotions assaulted me as I took the space across the corner, where I could see her entire face. I opened my mouth once, then twice, but couldn’t think of what to say.
There was every chance in the world she wouldn’t remember me, not with the concussion she’d had. And as often as I’d wondered about her, dreamed about her, I’d never once let myself even imagine actually seeing her again, or what I would say if I did.
Izzy was thoroughly distracted in the opposite direction, trying to flag down the bartender, but the bride glanced my way, then hoisted her eyebrow when she noticed me staring at her friend.
Time to speak before the bride accused me of creeping, and this already had the potential for being awkward as hell.
“I must have dreamed of you a million times,” I said loudly enough to be heard over the music. Smooth, Nate. Real smooth.
Izzy rolled her eyes without even looking my way.
“She’s not interested.” The bride leaned into my line of sight, blocking Izzy, and shook her head. “Trust me, she just got out of a shitty relationship, and you aren’t interested either.”
“Trust me, she’s interested.” I grinned. Had to give it to loyal friends.
Izzy scoffed and turned her head away even more, purposefully ignoring me. She was just as beautiful—even more so—as I remembered, in a bar full of frat boys on summer vacation and soldiers preparing to deploy. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many times she must have been hit on tonight.
“What could you possibly know about what interests her?” The bride glared with slightly glazed eyes. “We’re having a girls’ night. So just go back to whatever”—she gestured at the plain black T-shirt that stretched across my torso—“gym you crawled out of.”
“I like you,” I told the bride, then leaned farther onto the counter so I could see Izzy. “And I know she likes to read and hates to fly.”
Izzy stiffened and her gaze shifted, but she still didn’t look at me.
“Random guess,” the bride huffed, crossing her arms.
“I know she’s allergic to shellfish and penicillin,” I continued. Izzy’s eyes widened as she slowly turned my direction. “And she keeps Tylenol and antibiotic ointment in her purse.”
Izzy’s gaze locked with mine, her gorgeous brown eyes flaring with recognition as her lips parted. She looked as shocked as I felt.
“Oh, and her blood type is O positive.” My smile somehow widened. “Am I forgetting anything?”
She sidestepped the bride, and my breath stalled as she came closer, until only a matter of inches separated us. “Nathaniel Phelan?”
“Hey, Isabeau Astor.”
She cried out and jumped at me, throwing her arms around my neck. I caught her easily, splaying my hands over her back and hugging her tight. Forget awkward. This felt like coming home.
The last time I’d felt this relieved, this whole, was the moment we’d made it to shore after the crash.
“I have your bag,” she said as she pulled back, studying my face like she was looking for the scar my ball cap hid.
“What?” I set her back on her feet and forced my hands to let her go.
“Your bag.” She flashed a smile, and my chest constricted around my heart. Shit, I hadn’t imagined that instantaneous connection I’d felt with her on the plane. It was all too real, shining brightly in my face. “The airline sent it to me because you’d been sitting in my seat.”
“No way.” My eyebrows hit the ceiling.
She nodded, her grin just as big as mine. “I have your hoodie and your iPod, which I can’t believe you actually put in a ziplock bag, but it worked. My mouth just about hit the floor when it powered on. I don’t have them with me, of course—they’re all at my apartment in DC—but I’m not really sure what box they’re in, since I haven’t even had time to unpack between graduation, moving, and now Margo’s bachelorette party,” she babbled, yelling to be heard over the music.
She still babbled, and there was nothing better in the entire world.
“Holy shit, this is Plane Guy?” the bride—Margo—asked, staring at me like she’d seen a ghost.
“Yes!” Izzy nodded. “Can you believe it? Nate, this is Margo. Margo, this is Nate.” She hooked her arm through Margo’s elbow. “She was with me when I got the backpack.”
“Hi, Margo.” I managed to rip my gaze from Izzy long enough to nod at the bride.
“Hi, Plane Guy!” She smacked a kiss on Izzy’s cheek. “If you need me, I’ll be out on the floor!” Arms up, she ran back out to the other bridesmaids.