Page 7 of Aaron

So much has changed in a few months. I’ve never been fond of change; in fact, I abhor it. The only thing I despise more is a surprise.

Less than a year ago, we were just getting resettled on the mountain after ten years away, and now four of my five brothers are married. As far as I knew, there weren’t any single women around—maybe a few in Maple Creek—which was fine with me. Although I don't dislike my new sisters-in-law, I wasn't ready for these rapid changes.

My empty glass calls to me, but I’ve wasted enough time already. I open the 2026 folder on the screen, pull up January’s documents as I lean closer to the screen, immersing myself in the numbers and shutting out the rest of the world until the next interruption.

three

Cheri

The Uber ride to the airport stresses me out. It’s been non-stop traffic. I should have taken that into consideration when I booked my flight. I did not. These days, I hardly leave the apartment. If I’m able to drag Jaclyn out for drinks, it’s always somewhere local so we can walk. The 101 is at a standstill.

“Porca miseria,” I mutter to myself. I’m going to miss my flight, and then I won’t get to Jaclyn until tomorrow. Lucy, my driver, meets my gaze in the rearview as I ask, “Is there another way to the airport?”

“Afraid not. We’re stuck. It’s not usually this bad. There’s probably an accident somewhere. What time is your flight?” she responds.

“Eleven.” I think. Damn. I drag my phone out of my purse and double-check my boarding pass. “Yup, eleven.” It’s already ten-fifteen. I’m so screwed.

“You’ll make it.” She doesn’t sound very confident.

“Uh-huh, thanks.” Blowing out a breath, I sit back in the seat and try to relax. It’s one of those situations where I can freak out or go with it. There’s nothing I can do to change it.

“Are you checking that bag?” Lucy asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

“No. I’m bringing it on the plane.”

“Good. You’ll definitely make it. I hope you have your running shoes on.” She’s smiling as she says the last words.

Running shoes? It hits me a moment later—I’m going to run for it. Fun. I’m short, with lots of curves, what my nonna called an hourglass figure—and this body does not run. It’s why I don’t travel unless it’s well-planned. Spur of the moment and I don’t mix.

But running? Nope. Not unless I’m being chased by zombies, and they’d for sure catch me and eat my brain. I wonder if I’d taste different from someone who isn’t creative? Hmm.

The car jerks forward and startles me out of my thoughts. I do a little fist pump when I see we’re moving again. Where did the traffic go? Ugh. Who cares, especially if I can make my flight. Thank goodness my parents insisted I do PreCheck so I can get through security faster. Of course, I’ll still have to run through the airport and pretend to be chased. Sucky. I hate being sweaty, and being sweaty on an airplane all day is going to suck donkey balls.

What if I smell? Oh. My. God. How embarrassing. I’ll never forget the time I had to fly with my father’s old bodyguard, Uncle Theo. He had horrible body odor, and I almost barfed all over him. I don’t want to do that to someone else. Oh no. Wait, I booked first class, and the seats will be wider. I’ll squish against the window.

“We’re here. Good luck, and have a safe flight,” Lucy says when she stops the car in front of the terminal.

I flash a smile as I add a twenty-five percent tip in the app. I’ve already typed a review because she was so nice, and I give her five stars. I climb out of the car and slide my backpack over my shoulders. When Lucy sees me at the back of the car, she pops the trunk for me to grab my carry-on bag. I wave goodbye to Lucy and rush through the automatic doors as they slide closed. They almost grabbed me. Rude.

No longer worrying about sweating, I do my best impersonation of a power-walker, but there are so many people. Did I say I could do this for research? What a horrible idea. There are so many people. I have to keep saying, “Excuse me,” and “Sorry” when I bump into them while trying to get to the PreCheck area, only to find another line.

Tapping my foot, I glance around. Everyone is wearing the same frustrated expression I know is on my face. At least I’m not sweating—yet—but I still have to get to the gate. “Research,” I mumble, and the lady in front of me turns to give me a weird look. I almost stick my tongue out but stop in time, lick my lower lip instead, and shrug. Why is Little Cheri showing up now? She never comes out when I’m in public—she barely comes out in the apartment. Whispering in my head, I remind her it’s not safe for her here and take a deep breath.

Research, Cheri, remember? Whatever this is, it’s awful. Why would I need to know what it’s like to be a Little running through the airport? What or who would she be running from? Bad guys? Daddy? Hmm. Would anyone read a Zombie Daddy book?

Could I even write a book like that? My DD/lg books are sweet and spicy, not gory and sour. But maybe? Opening the notes app on my phone, I add a reminder to the list of things for Brooklyn, my PA. She can ask in my reader’s group—Cheri’s Little Darlings.

The PreCheck line moves faster than I expect, and as soon as I’m through, I run for my gate. Luckily, it’s not that far away—I don’t think, anyway. The final boarding announcement makes me move faster. I need to catch this flight. Cavolo! Racing through the airport was not on my bingo card for this month, or ever, but here we are.

There are no other passengers waiting at the gate when I stop at the podium, out of breath and sweaty for real this time. After pushing the hair that’s escaped from my ponytail behind my ears, I blurt, “Am I too late?” Then I show the attendant my phone with the boarding pass displayed.

She scans the code and smiles. “You’re good, Miss Santini; you still had a couple of minutes. But you’re the last passenger to board. It’s a good thing you’re in first class, though, or we’d have to gate check your bag.”

Santini? Not Anderson? Cavolo! I must have used my family's credit card when I made my reservation. Ugh. Another whatever moment. I guess my brothers won’t be in the dark about this trip for long. That’s a problem for Future Cheri. There have been so many today. My throat is so dry, so I rasp, “Thank you.” Then head down the ramp to the plane.

The flight attendant follows me to my row, and the man sitting in the aisle seat stands so I can slide past him into the window seat.

“Can I help you with that?” he asks, pointing to my suitcase.