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)
She brushed my hair back. “I know. I just hate to watch you living your life like a first-time driver with a stick shift, jolting forward and stalling over and over again.”
“I love him.” There was no other way to explain my actions.
“Yeah.” She offered me a sad smile. “But does he feel the same way about you?”
Weight settled in my stomach, immovable and nauseating. “I don’t know. But I’m determined not to come back from Palau until I know the answer. I’m done being the person with the most to lose here.”
Nate wouldn’t let me down. I knew that in the very depths of my soul. I just had to make it clear that the time for our shot was now.
The next day, my stomach twisted into knots when my group was called to board at Chicago O’Hare. Was this how Nate felt when my flight had been delayed on our way to Fiji?
Guilt sagged my shoulders as I stood, lifting my bag to my shoulder. I should have found time to text him on that trip, to put him out of his misery.
Guess this was payback.
I looked around at the other passengers as I moved into the boarding line, hoping that one head would stand above the others, that a pair of crystal-blue eyes would already be looking my way. He wasn’t here yet.
But he would be. Nate had never let me down in my life. Had he canceled plans on me because he was going to be spending his weekend “cleaning the pool”—his favorite phrase for telling me he was deploying over the phone? Sure. Absolutely. But he had never not called.
I checked my phone as the line moved forward, then opened the flight app for my boarding pass. The desk attendant reminded everyone at the gate that the flight was sold out as I scanned my ticket and boarded the flight.
Shaking my head that Nate had gone overboard with the first-class tickets, I slid into my seat, keeping my bag between my feet. I’d brought four new novels, complete with highlights for him, and didn’t want to have to haul the bag back out to give him his pick when he got here.
“Can I get you anything before takeoff?” the flight attendant asked with a polite smile.
“No, thank you. Do you know if everyone has checked in for first class? I haven’t seen my travel companion.”
“I don’t, I’m sorry.” He glanced at the empty seat. “Don’t worry. We still have about forty minutes before we close the doors. It takes a while to get everyone seated on a plane this big.”
“Thank you.” I sat back as he moved on to the next seats, and I kicked myself in the heart for what I’d obviously put Nate through on our way to Fiji. I pulled my phone from my purse and typed out a text.
Izzy: This seat next to me looks awfully empty.
I hit send and then watched the screen for the three scrolling dots that would tell me he was replying, but none appeared. After opening the airline’s app, I searched for the flight our paperwork told me he was on.
It landed five minutes ago.
That explained it. He probably hadn’t switched his phone off airplane mode while sprinting from a gate on the opposite side of the airport. He’d better be running. My heart jumped, my pulse accelerating at the thought of seeing him in just a few minutes.
But those minutes ticked by.
The flight attendant gave me a sympathetic look when he asked if he could help stow my carry-on for takeoff.
I buckled in, then shamelessly leaned into the aisle, looking above the seat’s partitions to watch the door I’d boarded through. My stomach sank when the attendant moved toward the door, and I nearly fumbled my phone, dialing Nate’s number.
It didn’t even ring before it sent me to voice mail, which meant it was off. “Nate, I think they’re closing the doors, and I’m really worried. It looks like your flight was delayed, and I don’t even know if I can get off at this point, so I guess I’ll catch up to you at the next layover in Hawaii? I can’t wait to see you.” I hung up.
He missed the flight.
He missed the next one too.
Bleary eyed, I checked into the resort the next day. “Isabeau Astor, but it might be under—”
“I have you here,” the concierge replied with a smile that I was too exhausted to return fullheartedly. “We’ll see you to your bungalow.”
“Can you tell me if Nathaniel Phelan has checked in?”
“You’re the first, ma’am.”
I nodded in thanks and followed the bellhop, my steps robotic and my heart growing heavier by the hour.
“Here you are.” The bellhop opened the bungalow and set my luggage inside. “Is there anything we can help you with?”