Mai Tai'd Up (27 page)

“Bye,” he said, and that was it.

T
en minutes later I was still pacing around my living room, trying to decide whether I should call him back, when my phone rang. “Thank God,” I muttered, racing to pick it up.

But it wasn’t Lucas. It was Charles.

“Hello?” I asked, stunned. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, other than a quick phone call about sending back some gifts.

“Hi, Chloe, how are you?” he asked.

“Uh, I’m good. You?”

“Good—great, actually. How are things up north? Your mom told me about the ranch you started up there—a charity for stray dogs?”

“Kind of. I run a rescue shelter for abandoned pit bulls.”

“Ah. Interesting.”

“Did you need something?” I asked. It was almost eleven o’clock. Why were we making small talk; what was going on? Weird.

“I do need something, actually: your signature.”

“On what?”

“Your name is still on my life insurance, and we need to get that switched over.”

“No way. I’ll just kill you and retire.”

There was silence, then he laughed. And just like that, we moved into normal. As normal as you could be with an ex-fiancé.

“Sure, I’ll sign whatever you want. Just email it and I’ll turn it around.”

“Notarize it, please.”

“Fancy,” I said. “So who’s your new beneficiary?”

“My new fiancée, actually. I’m getting married in six weeks.”

“What? Wow!” I sat down in surprise. “Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone I know?”

“Becky Von Stuffling.”

“I’ve never met her, but I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“She
is
lovely, and quite fun.” His voice sounded light. Hopeful. Intoxicated. “And a little bit twisted.”

“Twisted? Heavens, not that.” I laughed. “Is this the part where I say I’m happy for you?”

“Only if you really are.”

I flashed on all the good times I’d had with Charles; we used to laugh a lot. He was stuffy and pretentious, without a doubt. But he was a kind, decent man, and he deserved someone better suited for him. “I
am
happy for you, Charles. Very happy.”

“I was really angry with you, Chloe.”

“I know,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. I did what I had to do for myself, but I did leave a pretty big mess behind me. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you.”

“At the time it didn’t make any sense to me, but now I see that it was for the best. As mad and embarrassed as I was, it really was the best thing,” he said softly.

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Send me whatever you need to, and I’ll get it right back to you.” I sniffled a little. “And congratulations, Charles.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

I said good-bye and hung up. In a way, it felt like the last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. He had finally moved on, and it was all truly over.

I was now the opposite of the woman I very nearly became: the kind of woman who would marry a man she wasn’t entirely sure she was in love with, just for the security, for the good life. For the
supposed
good life.

I’d created my own good life, up on this ranch with a bunch of crazy dogs. And, Sinatra connection fully acknowledged, I did it my way. And I’d made my own bed before I chose to share it with someone new. Except I had hurt that someone—the last person I wanted to hurt.

I looked at the phone, then looked away. I picked up the phone, then put it down. I scrolled through to find his name . . .
then turned it off. He was getting on a plane in a few hours. The last thing he needed was me crashing through right now.

I went to bed, curled up in the sheets that still smelled like us, and tossed and turned all night.

At 5
A.M.
, I finally got up, threw on some clothes, got in my car, and headed for Monterey Regional Airport.

I was crashing through.

I had zero plan. I had no idea what I was going to do or what I was going to say. All I knew was that I was barreling toward the tiny Monterey airport wearing Lucas’ shirt, old jeans, and a nervous grin.

I slalomed through the few cars that were out at this hour, driving way too fast through the morning fog. I didn’t know what airline, I didn’t know where he was connecting through; all I knew was that he was on some six thirty flight that I was bound and determined to . . . to what?

Hell, I’d figure that part out when I got there. When I saw him—the only person I’d thought about since I got off the phone with my past the night. And after being able to finally, amicably part with my past, I knew that I wanted only one person for my future.

I pulled into short-term parking, grabbed a ticket, and ran for the main terminal. I pushed through a throng of travelers, and spied a familiar face.

“Dr. Campbell!” I cried out, breathing heavily. The chocolate pudding hoard was beginning to take its toll; my cardio was
crap. I ran on, pushing through the stitch of pudding in my side. “Dr. Campbell!”

“Chloe?” he called back. “What are you doing here?”

“Lucas . . . Is he . . . still here? I need . . . I need . . . Crap, I need to start jogging . . . again . . . Lucas?”

“He just went through security,” Lucas’s dad said, looking confused. “Are you okay?”

Dammit! I looked toward the space beyond the huge security line, but didn’t see him. Dammit again. “Yeah,” I said, still searching. “I just wanted to see him before he left, and tell him—”

There! Right there, a redhead above all the others! Six foot three, remember?

“Lucas!” I shouted, and took off in a sprint. Barreling toward security, I saw him look around, as confused as his father.

“Chloe?”

I didn’t care that he’d already gone through security and was still holding his shoes; I just ran. I didn’t even see the other passengers. I also didn’t see the TSA agent coming for me as True Love attempted to trump Homeland Security.

For the record, it does not.

Suddenly a scanning wand was waving in front of my face. “Just where do you think you’re going?” an irritated voice asked. The TSA agent, a rather large woman, was standing there with one hand holding her wand, the other hand on her can of . . . ah, shit . . . mace.

“Sorry, so sorry, I was just trying to get . . . his! His attention!” I jumped up and down again, pointing to Lucas on the other side of the glass partition. I could see him, he could see me, but there was an entire line of people, the X-ray machine, and the TSA staff between us. “Sorry, I just have to tell him that I . . . That I . . .”

The agent frowned at me. “Ma’am, do you have an airline ticket?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to tell him—”

“Ma’am, then you can’t be down here,” she said, starting to turn me around. Her walkie-talkie went off, and she said into it, “I’ve got it. She just wants to talk to some dude who already went through. Nope, it’s under control.” She looked back at me. “Ma’am, do you have any idea what you did?”

“Yes, I cut ahead of some people in line. I know it was rude of me—”

“You cut ahead of some people in line at an
airport
. You came running at the security entrance, screaming your head off, at an
airport
. You looked like you were going to try to crash through a federal security checkpoint
at an airport
,” she said, her tone getting more and more serious. “It wasn’t rude—it was incredibly stupid.”

“Oh my God,” I moaned.

Lucas, standing there with a “what the fudge” look on his face, called, “Are you okay?”

“I think so?” I called back, then turned to the TSA agent. I snuck a quick peek at her name tag. Standing tall, shoulders squared, one foot posed slightly in front of the other, I gave her my best smile. “Monica—can I call you Monica?”

“Where is this going?” she asked, looking at me like I was a little crazy.

I couldn’t blame her, but pressed on. “Monica, I’d like to thank you for your service to our fine country. It makes my heart proud to see such a strong female protecting our airports, here in the great state of California and around our nation. As a former Miss Golden State, and a lifetime resident of California, I’ve had the great privilege of visiting all parts of our beautiful state, often by air travel. And every time I have, I’m always so grateful
for the tireless work that you, and all of your highly trained and competent coworkers, do every day to keep us safe. So, thanks for the warning, and let’s keep California and America flying high,” I finished, beaming at her.

Several of the other TSA agents had leaned in to listen as well, and I shared my winning smile with them all.

“Sweetie, you feeling okay?” she asked, patting me on the shoulder.

“Truth?” I asked, still smiling.

“Oh, I think you’d better.”

“See that guy, the redheaded dude?” I pointed.

“Louis?”

“Well, Lucas, but yes.”

“Uh-huh?”

“I finally slept with him two nights ago, and I really messed things up, and I just adore him and he’s leaving for Belize for twelve weeks, and I told him something that really hurt him, and I just can’t let him leave without telling him something else: that I actually lo— And, well . . . that’s when you stopped me with your wand.”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, looking me over carefully, then said into her walkie-talkie that she was escorting someone to checkpoint C.

I looked at her warily. “Is that bad? Is checkpoint C where you take—”

“Just walk with me, sweetie,” she said, rolling her eyes.

We approached the glass wall, Lucas following on his side, still looking confused, and we walked along the edge until we came to the baggage claim area—where people could walk out, but not in.

There was another agent sitting there, and she stood up when we walked over.

“Stephanie, why don’t you take your break,” my agent said. “I’ve got this for a while.”

The other agent nodded and ambled off.

Settling herself behind the podium, Monica spotted Lucas waiting on the other side, backpack in hand, looking very worried.

“Hey, Louis! C’mere! Your girl wants to talk to you,” she shouted, waving him over.

When he arrived, she said, “Okay, Louis, this girl wants to talk to you bad enough she almost committed a federal crime to do it. Although now that I get a look at you, I can almost understand,” she said, appraising him. Turning to me, she said, “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Chloe. Chloe Patterson.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll remember that. Okay, Chloe Patterson. Hit it.”

I started to walk forward, and she raised her hand. “Don’t make me get my mace out. Without a boarding pass, you can’t go past this line.” She pointed to the red line on the linoleum floor.

“Chloe, what the hell’s going on?” Lucas asked.

I walked up to the line, keeping my toes just on it, and when my TSA agent nodded, I took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry to do this right before your trip. And I’m so sorry to have been such an idiot the other morning, after we . . . well . . . after that amazing night.”

“Chloe, I—”

“No no, let me say this.”

“Let her say this, Louis,” Monica said.

We both looked sideways at her, then I pressed on. “I don’t want to be your rebound.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding—”

“Louis!” she yelled, and he held up his hands.

“The other night was incredible, and I want every night to
be like that. You’re sweet and kind and wonderful and funny and you let me eat pudding. Which I need to stop doing, because I almost couldn’t run through this airport.”

He just stood there, jaw clenching. But he was listening, so I rushed forward.

“And I don’t care that you’re leaving for twelve weeks, but I want to be here waiting for you when you come back. And I don’t want you meeting any pretty young veterinarians down there just because I didn’t tell you what I should have told you before.”

I looked at my TSA agent for courage, and she nodded.

I took a deep breath and looked into those gorgeous blue eyes. “I don’t want to be your rebound. I just want to be yours. And I’m so, so sorry for not telling you sooner about the way that I left Charles. I should have and it was stupid of me not to. I lied to you and I hate that I hurt you, when that’s the last thing you deserve. Because you—” My breath caught, and my throat got tight. “You’re it for me.” Then I crunched my eyes closed, because I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. Because if he didn’t want me to be his . . .

“Chloe,” he said, and I opened one eye.

“I . . .” I held my breath. “Can’t.”

I opened the other eye, not entirely sure what he’d just said.

“I just can’t do this.” He shook his head. “I appreciate you coming down here, really I do. But I just can’t have another woman lying to me again. I’m sorry.”

And as they called his flight, final boarding, he gave me a thin
sorry
smile, and ran for his plane.

“But, I came to the airport,” I said, mostly to myself.

“What did you lie to him about?” Monica asked.

“Just one thing, but it was a big thing.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself. I can’t believe he was leaving. I thought for sure if I poured my heart out, he’d . . . he’d . . .

“You thought if you came down here and spilled your guts and apologized, he’d sweep you off your feet and kiss you stupid?”

“Something like that,” I admitted, not seeing even a flash of red hair in the crowd. He was well and truly gone.

“You’ve been watching too many romantic comedies,” Monica said. “Come back in twelve weeks. Maybe he’ll have cooled down by then.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning to leave.

“And Chloe Patterson?” she called, and I looked over my shoulder. “You ever try something like this again, and I’m going to redline you. You don’t want that, believe me.”

I nodded, my head feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, and headed back toward the ticketing area. Where Dr. Campbell senior was waiting for me.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he offered.

“You saw that?” I asked.

“Chloe, it’s a small regional airport. Everyone saw it.”

“Great,” I croaked, shaking my head. What a mess.