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“Maybe I am, but crazy has served me well so far.”
Cassidy pauses as the lights come on and the plane slowly settles. I half-expect her to pull her hand away now that the turbulence has subsided. Instead, she peers down at where I’m still holding her tightly. I let her appreciate how perfect our hands fit together, from the dainty size of hers compared to my large one, to the contrast of our skin—hers softer and lighter than mine.
Lazily, she shifts her gaze back to mine. “You’ll be wasting your time, Maximus. We’re never going to see each other again after this.”
“Didn’t you say that back at the bar?”
She bites her lip, showing a chink in her argument.
“But here we are, Nova. A second time.” The third time will be a perfect charm—it’s an unwritten universal law. Omne trium perfectum. Of course, she’d laugh it off if I told her that, so I sink back into my seat, holding her hand for as long as she’ll allow me.
“We’ll see, Maximus.”
Yes, we will, Cassidy Morgan.
Call me a maniac; I know it’s insane to fall for a woman I just met. Even crazier to fall for her because she puts up a good fight, and the sound of her voice makes my pulse skitter and my brain fry. Not to mention that she likes kids. I’ve always loved working with children, and it’s why I spend every Thursday evening coaching them at the local community centre. Kids are possibly not a commonality that most people are attracted to, but I’ve never been most people. So, here I am, sitting next to the prettiest girl on this flight, wondering how the hell I’m going to make her give fate a go, because from only knowing her name and a sliver of her character, I’m already certain we’re a foregone conclusion.
CHAPTER 3
CASSIDY
I’m running through Budapest International Airport as fast as my legs will allow me, with my backpack jostling all over the place, bruising my shoulders with the weight of its contents when I’m forced to an abrupt stop in the middle of the terminal. A crowd has gathered around the main flight information screen while a rambling announcement is made in Hungarian. Even before the English translation follows, my panting breaths are squeezed from my lungs as a lump forms in my throat.
“This an announcement for passengers on flight tee-kay-one-zero-three-eight to Nevsehir,” the accented female voice echoes through the airport. “Due to extreme weather conditions, the flight has been delayed. Please check the flight information board for more information.”
Why is everything going so wrong?
For a moment, I thought luck was on my side and I was going to make my flight to Turkey. I was so hopeful, I didn’t even look back when I grabbed my things and legged it off my previous flight. I barely even said goodbye to Maximus.
I didn’t say goodbye.
I didn’t say thank you.
I couldn’t even bring myself to really look him in the eyes before we parted ways because it would have meant I enjoyed his company.
It’s ridiculous how he made me feel so safe when I know nothing about him, not even his name. That on its own should be enough for me to shake him off and forget his existence, the way I’d planned to when he left me at the bar at Heathrow. My brain has other ideas, though, as I trudge back the way I came with racing thoughts whirring through my mind.
Attempting to shut my brain off for just a second, I search for an empty seat to wait in until the flight is ready. Row after row, I’m left disappointed as the announcements for other delayed and cancelled flights are called out through the airport.
It’s one of the busiest times of the year. People from all over the world are travelling to their chosen destinations to see the new year in. There are no seats available, and some passengers are already camping out in the less convoluted areas, setting up makeshift beds from their big coats and bags.
This is a nightmare.
Everyone around me is either pissed off or on the verge of tears. Not a single soul is in high spirits when I pause in the middle of the terminal and search for a nook or cranny to settle myself in.
“Still don’t believe in fate?”
My stomach somersaults at the familiar voice.
That same sense of ‘it’s going to be okay’ that wrapped itself around me on the plane warms through me again. When I spin to find Maximus smiling broadly at me, the knots in my stomach loosen for a fraction of a second—long enough to silence the shitshow in my head.
“Fate can go rim a shitting donkey,” I reply.
“That’s quite the visual, Nova.” Maximus chuckles, but there’s a glint of pity in his gaze that unravels me.
The dam I’ve been propping up all day with every stick of hope I could find finally crumbles so fast, I have no chance to catch myself when the first sob bursts from my chest.
“Come here.”
