Chapter Twenty-Two

Zoey

I walk back into the reception, only to see it half full. People have started filing out as David and Phoebe walk around, giving goodbye hugs to everyone.

Their flight to Jamaica leaves in a few hours, and they still need to pack everything up.

I scour the area for Brent, but I don't see him anywhere.

"There you are!" Phoebe says, walking quickly over to me, her dress swishing around her feet. "Where have you been?"

Liam walks in behind me, and my sister's face looks like a woman about to be on death row.

"I'm going to kill you—"

"Whoa, hold on. What's wrong?"

"Where did you two run off to?" my sister asks as Liam slinks past us.

He's always been a little scared of my sister, and I can't blame him.

"We went to talk. I told him it's over. Why? And where is Brent?"

"He went looking for you. Then David just got a text that he left for the airport."

What!

He left?

"When did he leave? And why?"

"I don't know. Did you see him? Did you talk to him when he finally found you with Liam?"

"Oh my God," I say under my breath, looking down at the floor and imagining what Brent must have seen.

"That's not reassuring, Zoey… what did he see?"

I let out a sigh.

"Liam down on one knee, probably."

"That's it. He's a dead man!" she says, spinning around to find Liam.

I grip her arm.

"He's not worth jail time tonight. Your flight is in a couple of hours," I tell her.

"I doubt Brent thinks hitting Liam wouldn't be worth a night in the slammer."

"Shoot! Brent… I need to find him. He probably thinks…"

"That your plan to win Liam back worked?" she asks with a raised brow.

I want to smack her and remind her that she's the one who said using Brent as my fake boyfriend was a good idea, but it's her wedding day. I'll wait to scold her after her honeymoon.

"I have to go. I need to find him."

"Thank God. Yes, go!" she says, handing me my camera bag and then shoos me away.

I yank off my heels and then swing my laptop bag over my shoulder so I can run for the hotel room. Maybe a part of me thinks he hasn't left yet, that he's still packing, and we'll have this long conversation about everything. I burst through the room to find no trace of him or his things.

He left.

There's a note on the round entry table with a ziplock of trail mix and the keys to the car rental.

For your flight home tomorrow. Congrats on your engagement. We made a good team.

My heart shatters that he thinks I'm still hoping that our fake relationship will amount to Liam wanting to be with me. I guess that's exactly what I made Brent think, so I shouldn't be surprised.

I grab for my cell phone inside my laptop bag and dial him but it goes straight to voicemail. He must have turned his phone off for the wedding.

I have to get to him, and I have to get to him now.

I swipe the rental car key and the trail mix, cramming them both in my camera bag and dash to the door, grabbing my purse on the way out.

With my current tunnel vision, I don't care about my luggage or any of my equipment. I have to clear up what Brent saw and that's more important than anything else.

I get downstairs in my dress and wish I would at least have grabbed my sneakers. Stopping now isn't an option.

I see Gran standing by the door, looking around.

"Gran?"

Her right hand grips at her chest in relief. "Oh, thank God, I thought I missed you. I need to tell you something," she says, reaching out to take my hand.

This must be important if she was worried that she had already missed me leaving.

"What? What is it?"

"I thought Brent would grow a pair and tell you himself, but you need to know something about the man you're about to marry. I can't let you do it without knowing everything."

"The man I'm about to marry?" I ask. She's lost me now.

Who is she talking about?

"Brent said that you picked Liam."

So, he did see Liam propose.

"You saw Brent? When?"

I look past her out towards the parking lot.

"He's already left and is headed for the airport. I couldn't get him to stay and talk to you. He should have told you that Liam called him the night of prom and threatened that taking you to prom would cost Brent his friendship with Liam. Brent had already lost so much that year… he couldn't lose Liam too."

Shock shoots down my spine at what she just told me. It makes perfect sense too. Brent and Liam were so close then.

"Brent told you that?" I ask.

"Liam told him that he was headed to San Diego that night to take you to prom. He didn't show up, so it would look like Brent stood you up, and then he showed up the next day to save the day. Liam wanted to make sure that you'd never consider Brent again."

I want to say that I can't believe Liam would do this, but I'd be lying to myself about Liam… again. Now I know why I always felt like I needed Liam—he made sure I felt lost without him.

"I have to go. I have to find him."

"Go honey," she says and steps out of the way.

I drive like a bat out of hell to the airport. Between traffic and having to drop off the car rental at the rental parking lot, I am running to make his flight barefoot. I try not to think of how much sidewalk gum my feet have touched at this point.

I get to the counter agent, and she takes one look at my evening gown. Her face scrunches up like she senses that this will be the weirdest exchange of her career.

"Please, the man I love is on that flight, and he just saw my ex propose to me. I need to get on board to tell him that he didn't see it right."

"Couldn't you just call him?" she asks with a reasonable solution.

"He turned his phone off. Please," I beg, leaning my arms across the desk.

I summon my best version of the sad dogs on those animal shelter commercials that always make me want to cry.

I'd bet money those animals are paid actors.

"Are you going to be a problem, ma'am?" she asks, giving me a lifted eyebrow.

"No, I swear," I tell her, lifting my hands up like I'm taking an oath. "I just need to tell him before he spends the next couple of hours thinking I want to be with anyone other than him. Please, I'm begging."

She looks down at the computer screen.

"Okay, I have one seat left on the plane. It's a middle seat back by the lavatory."

I'll sit in the belly of the plane with the luggage at this point if it means I can speak to him for thirty seconds.

"I'll take it." I jump up in the air, grateful to just have a seat on a booked flight.

She gives me a little side-eye, I'm sure thinking her supervisor is going to fire her for letting the crazy lady in a ball gown on the flight, but I'll be on my best behavior. I wouldn't do her dirty like that.

"Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me."

She prints the boarding pass and then lays it on the counter.

I grab it and run to TSA.

I get through quickly with only a few other people since there aren't many flights this late at night.

The last call for my flight echoes through the terminal and I make a dash for the gate, my dress swishing around my ankles and my bare feet about ready to give out.

"That's me! That's me!" I yell, running down the hallway toward the gate agent.

She stands there and waits for me at the door.

"Headed somewhere special?" she asks, scanning my dress with a smile.

"Something like that," I tell her.

I'd say that telling Brent that he's the only one I want is very special.

She scans my ticket, and I run down the gangway toward the aircraft door, where the flight attendant awaits me.

"Welcome aboard," she says with a forced smile.

I'm sure she loves last-minute passengers boarding her flight after everyone else has settled.

"Thanks." I walk past her, my heart sputtering out of control from running and my nerves on edge.

I have no idea what I will be met with when I see Brent, and I don't end up with much time to process it because he's sitting in first class in the second row.

He looks up from his drink, and his eyes lock onto mine.

His eyes flare like he's surprised to see me.

"What are you doing? I thought your flight was tomorrow?" he says, scanning my dress too.

I get it… It's unusual to see a woman in a formal dress on an aircraft.

"It is… or… it was, but I need to talk to you," I tell him.

"Ma'am, I need you to take your seat," the flight attendant says.

I glance back over my shoulder at the flight attendant standing behind me. She looks even more irritated than before.

"Right, I will. I just…"

"How did you get on this flight?" he asks.

I turn back to face Brent. "The counter agent moved me up. I have something to tell you…"

"Ma'am… your seat," the flight attendant says again, her voice a little more forceful this time.

I take another step farther in to make it look like I'm obeying her orders.

His eyes break from mine, and he looks down to watch the amber liquid in his glass swirl.

"You don't need to tell me. I already know." His voice somber.

It kills me to see him pull away from me like this.

"No, I—"

"Ma'am!" the flight attendant says, nudging me forward.

I don't want to get kicked off this flight, and she's literally corralling me like a sheepdog to my seat.

Okay, I get it, jeez.

"I said no!" I yell over my shoulder at Brent.

The flight attendant marches me down to the end, and the guy sitting in the aisle seat stands to let me in.

"I was going to go," I say over my shoulder to the flight attendant.

"Well, now you have. We have a wheels-up time to catch, and you're not going to make everyone else late for their connecting flights."

I see the eyes of the other passengers all staring back at me, and I decide now is the time to shut my mouth.

I take my seat and thank the guy standing for getting up for me.

I bend down to push my camera bag under me, and when I lean back up, a large man hovers over my aisle buddy.

"Oh shit, you're Brent Tomlin," the guy sitting next to me says.

"Yeah, and you're in my seat," Brent says.

"Weren't you in first class?" the man from the aisle seat asks.

"Yep, and now you are," he says, handing the aisle guy his boarding pass. "I asked the flight attendant to get you a new whiskey. Merry Christmas."

The guy sitting in the aisle seat looks over at me with confusion, and I just shake my head. Why Brent would give up first class to sit at the back of the cramped plane, I have no clue, but I hope the aisle guy moves his ass because I really want to find out.

He grabs his backpack and coat and stands.

"Thanks, man! Will you autograph this for me later?" he asks of the boarding pass.

"The faster you move out of the way, the er the likelihood," Brent says with a smirk.

He's teasing the guy, but a little fire in his eye tells me if the man standing between us doesn't move soon, Brent will do the honors.

The guy leaves quickly with a smile on his face.

Brent plops down next to me and angles his entire body toward me. I swear everyone on the flight is staring back at us.

"Hi," I say, a little in surprise.

"What did you say before?" he asks, his eyes darting between mine as he leans in closer to me.

"That I moved my flight up."

"No, after that… when the flight attendant shoved you down the aisle," he asks.

"I said no," I tell him.

"Can you be more specific… please?" he asks.

"When Liam proposed, I said no. I told him that I'm not in love with him anymore."

Brent's tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"What does that mean?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"I have feelings for my fake boyfriend, and I'm hoping his offer from this morning still stands."

"I saw you nod yes."

"I nodded when he asked me if I'm in love with you."

His lips turn up on one side. A lopsided grin that I love on him.

"You love me?"

"Yes. And your grandmother told me about prom and what Liam did to make sure I hated you."

"Did she tell you before or after you turned down Liam?"

It seems like an odd question.

"What does that matter?"

"I need to know if you chose me before or after you knew the truth," he says.

"She told me after I left Liam on his knee to find you and see if you want me to."

A full smile spread across his face.

"I want you too. I've wanted you since the first day I saw you in Spanish class. I've loved you for as long as I've known you."

I lean forward toward him, and he wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer until our lips press together.

"Mile high?" he asks, he asks against my mouth.

I chuckle. "That might be a little tricky. I was thinking in your bed," I say.

"You're coming home with me?" he asks.

"Do you want me to?"

His eyes dart down to my lips. "I don't think I'll ever let you leave."

"Maybe I never will."

His smile widens.

"Will you sit in my seats at next week's game? Tessa sits next to them in Lake Powers' seats," he says, a little glimmer in his eyes.

"Do I get to wear your jersey?"

He still wears the same number he did in high school, and it's funny to think I'll finally get to wear it after all these years.

"I won't let you wear anything else," he says.

"Is this real?" I ask into our kiss.

"It always was, Zoey."