When I find Starbucks, the line to the stand in the middle of the airport is at least twenty-people deep. As I wait, I scan my surroundings. Spying a little Newport News tucked into the corner, I step out of line in the hopes that I’ll be able to find a mobile charger faster than I’ll be able to get a coffee.
As expected, I find the charger I need right away. After grabbing a packet of gum on my way to the counter, I pay for both the overpriced charger and the gum. Then, I make my way back to the line for the coffee that will, hopefully, keep me from the emotional crash threatening to arrive at any moment.
It doesn’t help that right in front of me is a couple, a blissful couple, giddily talking about their honeymoon plans—in London, of all places.
I want nothing more than to burst their happy little bubble by telling them there’s nothing but cold, dreary rain waiting for them.
I could even replay the voicemail my sweet Gran had left this morning just to say hello. To tell me not to worry; that everything was fine, but if I “could manage it, to please send some sunshine across the pond.”
I didn’t do any of that, of course.
I wouldn’t be that man.
Even if I wanted to be.
Partially because I know it wouldn’t matter if they knew. I assume they probably already do—and it probably changes nothing.
From the sound of it, they’re too drunk on love and the unlikely possibility of seeing the queen that neither one of them will give a damn about the five days of constant precipitation waiting for them.
“Excuse me,” I say, tapping the gentleman on the shoulder.
As he turns, his face twists into one of concern and confusion. He quickly glances at his new bride before turning his attention back to me.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re on your way to London,” I tell him. “As it so happens, that’s where I’m from. When you get there, do all the touristy things. See Buckingham Palace, London Bridge.” I pause to chuckle when I see the Hogwarts T-shirt his wife is wearing. “Go to King’s Cross Station. But, if you want the best fish n’ chips, go to Jackson’s. It’s a pub in East London. Tell ‘em Ryan West sent ya and have ‘em put your first pint on my tab.”
I make a mental note to send Henry Jackson—Alfie’s best friend and the pub’s owner—some money to cover their tab as soon as my mobile is charged enough.
The happy couple thanks me profusely and then proceeds to spend the rest of our time in line together rapid-firing questions at me. Any other time, I would have been more than happy to answer their questions, but today, it’s just tiresome.
I just wanted to do a good thing.
When it’s their time to order, they pay for my coffee, thanking me half a dozen more times before they wave goodbye.
My coffee in hand, I hand the twenty-dollar bill I was going to use to pay for my drink over to the barista. “I guess it’s my turn to pay it forward,” I say, offering the bubbly blonde a tight-lipped smile when she squeals in delight.
“I just love when this happens!” she says excitedly.
I give her a nod and then turn to make my way toward the gate, the Styrofoam cup full of scalding hot coffee falling to the floor as soon as I see her.
38
Carina
“Bloody hell!”
The very loud—very British—curse grabs my attention right away, and my heart stops when I see it’s coming from the very person I’m searching for.
I run to where Ryan is now profusely apologizing to the people around him, not stopping until I reach the other side of the puddle of black liquid separating us.
A curvy blonde in a green apron is now standing next to Ryan, assuring him that “these things happen all the time.” She offers to make him another cup, but he declines, thanking her for her kindness before his eyes meet mine.
Squinting, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not I’m real, he walks right through the puddle as he begins to close the space between us.
“What are you doing here, love?” he asks, the worry lines on his forehead becoming prominent as his eyes narrow in confusion.
That’s it. That’s all it takes. A wave of emotion hits me like a wrecking ball, and I come undone, right there in the middle of Logan Airport.
“I came to find you,” I admit, my vision clouded by the tears that break free without hesitation. “I came to find you and tell you I’m sorry. I was wrong to tell you to leave.”
“I was supposed to be on a plane already.” The tone in his voice is cold; reminiscent of the one I used this morning, directed at him. “What would you have done then, Carina? If I hadn’t taken a later flight?”
“I would have gone to New York,” I tell him. “I would have begged you to come home. I was just so mad at Richard and I took it out on you.”
The corner of his lip curls up slightly as he takes a step closer to me. A trail of goosebumps begins at the tips of my fingers and ends at the very bottom of my toes when I feel the warmth of his body against mine. I pray my legs don’t give out beneath me as they wobble nervously.
“Is that what you want, Carina?” he asks, his voice wavering as he pulls me completely to him by my waist. Right away, I feel the strength of his embrace. “Do you want me to come home?”
“Right now?” I manage to stammer out, the words just above a whisper. “Right now, I want you to kiss me. And then, yes, please come home.”
The sequence of moments that follow blur together in a perfect blend of emotions. His free hand cradles my face as his lips crash down on mine. The warmth of his own tears against my cheeks, only makes mine fall faster.
For a fleeting moment in time, it’s just the two of us.
Loud cheering and applause bring us back to reality.
Ryan laughs as we break our kiss.
“Sorry about that,” he chuckles, waving his hand in apology to the crowd of people now watching us. “We’ll, uh, we’ll be going now.”
Ryan’s hand slides into mine. He gives it a slight squeeze before leaving a kiss on my temple.
“Let’s go home, love.”
Epilogue
Carina
Two Years Later
I’m late.
Panicking, I glance around the room one more time, double checking to make sure I have everything. Right on cue, Valentina sticks her head into the open doorframe.
“Dad’s here. Time to go.”
The silence that greets me as I step out of the guest room is rare for my grandparents’ house. Up until about a few hours ago, there was a house full of Domenico women. My aunts and cousins took turns getting ready in the bathrooms—every one of them claiming to be there “just in case.”
They weren’t fooling anyone. Every one of them was trying to get a glimpse of the bride-to-be.
Luckily, my sister had handled it, shooing everyone out just in time for Hailey and Brenna to arrive. Almost every day for the last two years, they’ve done my hair and makeup for the show, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing either for my wedding.
It’s still so surreal to say.
My wedding.