Just a Kiss (23 page)

Was he going to ask to speak with her? The question became even more relevant as the phone was passed to Zac on the other end of the sofa. Even with Lucy sitting between them, making comments on the game, she couldn't tear herself away from Zac's end of the conversation.

They talked about the restaurant and about Miss Trudy's upcoming wedding. Riley must've done his share of talking, because Zac was quiet a good bit of the conversation.

As their call wound down, Paige braced herself. They hadn't
spoken since he'd broken up with her over two months ago. Her heart did a little hitch kick.

But Zac told Riley he'd see him soon and hung up the phone, handing it back to Miss Trudy.

Paige's stomach seemed to sink all the way to the floor. So much for wanting to be her friend. She stared at the TV as if mesmerized by the game, but her eyes stung, and she had to recite the alphabet backward to keep the tears from gathering.

A commercial came on, and Beau lowered the volume. “Well, he was in good spirits.”

“Yeah,” Zac said. “He sounded good. I guess Georgia agrees with him.”

The words should've made Paige glad. Instead they opened a wide, hollow place inside. It hurt to know he was happier without her. Because she wasn't happier without him. She missed him so badly she ached with it.

She lay in bed after a good, productive day and remembered the way his arms felt around her. She closed her eyes and recalled the feel of his lips on hers, soft and reverent. She reached for the pillow that had been his and breathed in his spicy, clean scent.

Life felt empty without Riley. And she wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

R
iley laced his hands behind his head and scowled at the airport departure monitor. The word
Canceled
flashed in red across the screen—right next to his flight number.

No.

He forked his hands into the hair at the base of his neck and squeezed until he felt a sting. The flight had been delayed for three hours. There was a storm system moving across New England, dumping lots of snow, but he'd been hoping to get out before the Bangor airport closed.

He'd booked this flight weeks ago, choosing to fly out on Thanksgiving morning because it was cheaper. Now he might not even make it home in time for dinner.

He got in the long line of disgruntled holiday travelers and waited his turn, going over his options. Driving his motorcycle wasn't among them. He couldn't drive it through a snowstorm, and even if he could, it was already crated up for shipment. If he rented a car it would take at least twenty hours to drive home—if he could even find a car, and that was doubtful.

Forty minutes later, when he finally reached the front of the
line, he was told there was no way of getting him any closer than New York by plane. And they couldn't even get him there until late Friday. Better to wait for the storm to pass, she said.

She booked him on a Friday afternoon flight and told him to keep his fingers crossed. Of course that meant he'd be spending the night in Atlanta and going through security again tomorrow. That had been a treat with a prosthetic leg. Now he'd have to collect his luggage and Bishop, who'd been in his carrier and on his way to the grounded plane.

So he was going to miss Thanksgiving. He wasn't going to see Paige today. The thought sank like lead in his stomach. At this point he'd be lucky to make it to Summer Harbor in time for Aunt Trudy's wedding. He shouldered his duffel bag and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Paige pulled the bubbling pecan pie from the oven and set it on the wire rack beside the two cooling pumpkin pies. Her kitchen was filled with a sweet aroma and the buttery tang of homemade crust. She pulled off the oven mitts and frowned at the pecan pie.

Miss Trudy had only asked her to bring two pumpkin. But somehow whole pecans and corn syrup had found their way onto her grocery list, and next thing she knew she was standing in her kitchen, rolling out a crust for Riley's favorite pie.

He was her best friend, and he was coming home for the holiday. It was only natural she'd want him to have his favorite.

You keep telling yourself that, Paige.

Ever since she'd found out he was coming home for Thanksgiving, she'd been a mess. How was she supposed to act? Like a
friend? Like nothing had changed? It seemed impossible when everything in her cried out for him. When her pillow was still damp with tears on the occasional bad night. When that hollow spot inside seemed to have only grown wider in the weeks since his departure.

You're going to have to get me through this, God.

It was going to be painful. Seeing him again was only going to tear off the scab that was just beginning to form. She wondered what he was feeling. Was he dreading seeing her? Would it be as awkward as she feared?

She hadn't heard from the family since Sunday. She assumed they'd been as busy as she with the shortened workweek and getting the Christmas tree farm ready to open. She'd never even asked when Riley was arriving, but she assumed it had been sometime yesterday. She tried not to feel hurt that she hadn't heard from him.

She looked out her kitchen window at the swirling snow. She should just be grateful he wasn't flying in this mess.

Time to get ready while the pies cooled.

Dasher crept over to her, looking up at her with those big green eyes, and let out a soft
meow
. Paige scooped her up. “What's wrong, baby?”

Dasher always seemed to sense when she was anxious. It made the feline unsettled. The cat nuzzled her neck, her body vibrating with a low hum.

“I'll be okay. Just as soon as I get this weekend over with.”

An hour later she was still trying to reassure herself as she pulled into the long, snowy driveway that led past the Christmas tree farm and to the house. Her windshield wipers squawked with each pass as they swiped away the huge snowflakes pelting the glass.

She squeezed the steering wheel with her gloved hands, her pulse kicking into double time as she rounded the curve, bringing the farmhouse into view. She drew in a steadying breath, then two, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. There was nothing she could do to prepare herself for seeing Riley again.

Part of her wanted to go right around the circle drive and head back to town. She looked at the house, huddled under a grove of mature white pines. Smoke curled from the chimney, the wispy trail disappearing into a frenzy of flakes. The sight was as inviting as a welcome sign.

But the familiar feelings arose as quickly as the thought. Did she really belong here? Aunt Trudy wasn't really her aunt, nor were Beau and Zac her brothers. Riley sure wasn't. Her presence would only make him uncomfortable. Make them all uncomfortable. The old insecurities rose to the surface, swirling around as frantically as the snowflakes outside.

Help me, God.

She'd come so far the past two months. She'd thought this was settled. But she supposed the feelings she had nurtured for so long weren't going away overnight.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment as the car coasted down the incline, letting her new favorite scripture play over in her mind.
See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!

She'd found the verse for Brittany, and they memorized it together. The frequent reminder brought her comfort. She hoped it did the same for Brittany, especially this holiday weekend, which she was spending with her dad and his new family.

Her heart gave a thud as she pulled alongside the house and turned off the engine. She gathered the pie carriers and got out of
the car, dashing through the cold. When she reached the door she gave a quick tap, then entered.

A football game was on the TV, but the living room was empty. Even though it was hours from supper, the house was already filled with savory aromas. A fire crackled in the fireplace and voices drifted from the kitchen.

“Hello!” she called as she kicked off her snowy boots on the rug.

“In the kitchen!” someone called. Eden, she thought.

You can do this. Just walk right in there and hug him hello like you would've done five months ago. Act like nothing's changed. Like he's still your best friend. Like your heart is still whole. Like seeing him again isn't going to tear you up.

Lucy burst through the dining room door. “Hey, girl.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too.” Lucy gave her a quick hug and then took the pie carriers, allowing Paige to shrug out of her coat.

“It's freezing out there.”

“Beau just shoveled the walk, and it's already covered again.”

“I hear we're supposed to get eight more inches.”

“That's what I heard. Are the roads a mess?”

“Pretty much.”

“Did you get my text?”

“No . . .” Paige hung her coat on the coatrack and checked her phone. “Oh, there it is. I didn't hear it come in.” She scanned the message, her heart sinking as her eyes darted back to Lucy. “He's not here?”

“He was supposed to fly in this morning, but with the storm . . .”

The hollow place inside filled with something dark and heavy. “He's not going to make it for Thanksgiving.”

Lucy set her hand on Paige's arm. “No, but he's rescheduled on a flight that's supposed to arrive tomorrow late afternoon.”

“But the forecast says the storm won't let up until Saturday.” Paige searched Lucy's eyes, hoping she was missing something. But judging by the look on her friend's face, she wasn't missing a thing. If Riley's flight tomorrow was canceled, he wasn't going to fly in on Saturday only to turn right back around the next day.

“He's not even going to make Miss Trudy's wedding,” Paige said.

Lucy gave her a sympathetic look. Paige knew she wasn't fooling anyone. She wasn't worried about Thanksgiving supper or Miss Trudy's wedding. Despite her reservations, her foolish heart had counted on seeing him again.

“We'll just have to wait and see.” Lucy patted her shoulder, her lips lifting in a smile. “Come on in the kitchen. Zac's trying to trick Aunt Trudy into getting under the mistletoe with the sheriff, but she's always a step ahead of him. It's quite entertaining.”

Paige tried for a smile. “I'll be there in a minute.”

As Lucy carried the pies into the kitchen, Paige pulled off her gloves, stuffing them into her coat pockets. She tried to tell herself that the heavy feeling weighting her stomach was hunger and not profound disappointment.

R
iley glared at the airport monitor. “You've got to be kidding me.”

It was only an hour before his scheduled flight on Friday, and yet again the red
Canceled
sign flashed.

Why's everything have to be so hard, God?

He let loose a big sigh. It was time to reclaim Bishop and his bag—again—and come up with plan B. Or was it C?

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.

So he wasn't going to fly. He'd see, if by some miracle, there was a car he could rent. If he got on the road by six tonight he could make it to the wedding, allowing time for gassing up, traffic, and snowy roads.

He started the long walk through the airport, hitching his duffel bag higher. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted to see Paige. It had been all he could do not to call her yesterday just to hear her voice. He wondered how she'd felt about his absence. Had she been relieved she didn't have to face him across the Thanksgiving table? Indifferent?

The thought was a punch in the gut. He wanted nothing more
than to see her, tell her how he felt, and gather her into his arms. But would she welcome him after the way he'd left?

He reclaimed Bishop and his suitcase and went to the rental terminal, where all the kiosks were filled with snaking lines. He had to get home. He just had to.

A little help here, God?

While he waited in line he reassured Bishop, sticking his fingers through the carrier's holes to be licked. The poor dog was probably hoping this airport thing wasn't some awful new routine Riley was going to subject him to every day.

When Bishop lay down with a sigh, Riley stood and sent Beau a text to let him know his flight was canceled again. He scrolled through the Facebook pictures posted yesterday. His index finger stopped the scrolling and paged back up to the photo that had caught his eye. Eden had posted a picture of the family gathered around the table last night. His eyes homed right in on Paige. On her long blond hair, her gorgeous wide smile, her sparkling eyes.

She sure seemed happy. Happy Riley hadn't made it home? Happy she wouldn't have to face him?

His lips pressed together as he pocketed his phone and inched forward in line, scooting the carrier along. He wondered if she'd starting seeing Dylan again. Or someone else. Maybe she even had a date for the wedding. He knew how she felt about going to weddings alone, and a lot could happen in eleven weeks. Look how far he'd come.

Twenty minutes later he reached the front of the line.

An older woman with cocoa-colored skin smiled at him. “How can I help you, hon?”

“I need to rent a car, please. I'll take whatever you have.”

“Give me a minute here.” She clicked and clacked on the
keyboard while he fiddled with the frayed strap of his duffel bag. “We've been super busy today. Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?”

“Not really. I got stuck here by the snowstorm. I'm hoping to make the drive.”

“You must be determined to get home, young man.”

“Oh, I am. The sooner the better.”

She gave one more series of clacks, then stopped. “Well, good news and bad news. We just had a cancellation, but I'm afraid it's a transit van.”

His breath left his body in one long stream. He was going home to Paige. “I don't care. I'll take it.”