Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Are you sure, Laurel? He’s not at security!” I barked into my phone as I frantically looked around.
I’d dumped the car at the curb and ran to catch his flight before he left. Unfortunately, today of all days, it looked like my timing was off. “Are you sure he didn’t catch an earlier flight.”
“I’m pretty sure?” Laurel replied with mediocre conviction at best.
“Ugh, okay, I’ll call you back.”
The security line that funneled to all gates was packed. I stood at the back, on my tippy-toes, scanning the crowd for a tall man with dark hair and killer dimples. Dimples that I hadn’t seen in a long time.
I’d almost lost all hope when I spotted him just beyond the checkpoint, Giants ball cap pulled low over his eyes as he grabbed his designer duffel bag off the security conveyor belt.
“Scott!”
Every single person in line, every TSA officer, even the dang TSA dogs turned to examine me. So did Scott. His head lifted and his pointed gaze cut through the crowd and found me, his dark blue eyes softened, letting so much love shine through my chin trembled. They turned me inside out, those eyes, tumbling headfirst into love every single time he looked at me, and I couldn’t remember a single reason not to let him love me back.
People stepped aside, more than a little curious to see what all the commotion was about as I pushed through the crowd to reach the head of the line.
“Ma’am, you can’t––” TSA officer chided.
“Coming through––” Scott spoke over him while I waited anxiously on the other side. He walked through the scanner going the wrong way and the alarm went off.
“Sir!” TSA was not happy.
Scott dropped his bag in time to catch me jumping into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. I tipped his ball cap off his head and planted a loud quick kiss on his lips.
“Word…I’m saying the word,” I breathlessly told him, all that empty space inside my chest filled with groovy feelings, with peace for the first time in months.
For a beat, he looked confused. Then he threw his head back and laughed.
Epilogue
Two years later…
“This damn train is gonna be the death of me,” Laurel griped from behind me on her hands and knees, the seams of the bodice of the little black dress she wore getting seriously tested. In the floor-length mirror, I watched her try to straighten the train of my wedding dress.
“It’s okay if it wrinkles, Laurel. Who cares?”
We did everything the unconventional way in this family. Like having to get divorced before we could get married. An errant train of a dress? I was not sweating it.
But Laurel wasn’t having it and I’d learned that arguing with Laurel Robinson was a no-win situation. If she wanted to fuss, I wasn’t going to stop her.
The Zuhair Murad dress was indeed perfect for the occasion. It was made of silk organza, had a simple strapless bodice that hugged the new curves on my body and fell into a waterfall of fabric. The color a pale tint of lavender. Because, let’s be real, wearing white would’ve been a joke and Scott and I had vowed honesty above all else.
I slapped on some gloss, flicked the white lily attached to my low bun, and headed for the door of my bedroom. Out back, one hundred of our friends, family, and employees were waiting for me to get the show on the road.
“You’re gettin’ that train covered with lint!”
“It’s fine, Laurel, c’mon.”
As I came down the stairs that led to our backyard, through the wall of windows, I could see the explosion of flowers my soon-to-be mother-in-law had chosen for the occasion. She was dying to organize this wedding and I was more than happy to let her…I’ve been busy with more important things.
The flowers were nice, but the Tetons were better. Scott had been right. Nothing more beautiful than living art and in that category were the people in the backyard. I’d been looking for somewhere to belong all my life, someone, and I was one of the lucky ones––I’d found my place amongst a patchwork of people that worked for Blackstone and the Lazy S, the friends we’d picked up along the way: Ryan, Jan, the Robinsons, Paul, Miller and baby Soledad Smith, Marjorie, Dev, John and the girls.
I want to believe that Frank is looking down at all of us saying I told you so. All you needed was a little push in the right direction.
More like a shove, but I’m not complaining. I’d found my person, the one I wanted to belong to for the rest of my life.
Along with his shares of Blackstone as part of our divorce, Scott gave me Manhattan. We started dating as soon as the ink was dry on the divorce. Because, really, I wasn’t about to give up on the best surprise of my life. And I wasn’t going to give up running Blackstone either. Frank taught me that.