Page 104 of Special Delivery

“Isn’t it?” Jordan grabs a spoon of ice cream and pops it into her mouth. Then she slaps both of her thighs and gets up from the couch. “I think you need some time to think. Let us know if you need our help.”

With that, they leave me to mull over my thoughts.

I’ve been so hellbent on not being destined for love that I haven’t even considered it a possibility. But is it true? Do I love him? A shiver runs through me at the sheer memory of that ghost of a kiss last night. My body loves him, that’s for sure. My head thinks about him all the time. What about my heart? Are there even enough pieces left to be able to love?

I sneak another peek at the boarding pass, my dad’s words flashing through my mind. Living and loving and getting hurt is so much better than not living and loving at all. If he found the right person after so many wrong ones, could Ryan actually be mine?

Instead of trying to organize my thoughts, I do what I’ve done since I learned how to properly hold a pencil—I sit down and write.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Ryan

There’s a beach-ball-sized rock sitting smack dab in the middle of my stomach as I make my way to the security check. A female voice booms out through the speakers, probably sharing important information for all the passengers, but my mind is too hazy to hear it. The last time I was here, I was boarding a plane to the Bahamas with my mom, her fiancé, and three women who wanted nothing more than to get my mom out of the picture. I expected it to be a disaster, but it turned out to be a life-changing experience. This time, I bought the tickets of my own volition, and my suitcase is bigger, but there’s an ache deep in my chest which I don’t see waning any time soon.

I was so sure she’d join me. I barely got any sleep last night, checking my phone to see if she texted me. When my alarm rang at four am, I was already wide awake with the realization that she isn’t coming.

The thought of skipping the flight lasted for only a brief moment before it was replaced by determination. I told her I’d go, so that’s what I’ll do. Maybe she’ll change her mind and meet me there.

Fuck. Parker’s romance books must be rubbing off on me if I think Paige will search Peru to find me and tell me she’s in love with me.

It’s my turn for the security check, so I take off my jacket and empty my pockets into the gray trays. My down-turned lips pull up remembering when Paige’s vibrator got flagged by the TSA agents. The memory of her flushed cheeks pokes another hole in my devastated heart. I shake my head, trying to rid it of those images, but it’s vastly unsuccessful.

Next up is my belt, which slides through the hoops before dropping into the tray with a clink. My throat swallows, trying to clear a lump as I take a parting glance at the airport and the city I’m leaving behind.

The scanner doesn’t ding so I pass quickly, even though my legs are trying to stall. Putting on my belt and jacket takes forever, and four people pass me. With a sorrowful sigh, I realize it’s time to move forward. It’s easier to walk to the gate than to imagine actually moving forward, in my mind and my heart.

My fingers wrap around the telescopic handle of my suitcase, and with a heavy heart, I take a step toward my gate. Just as the last drop of hope evaporates, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

My shoulders drop, noticing it’s an email and not a text from Paige, but I open it anyway, hoping to buy more time.

It’s a notification from Girl Talk magazine. They’re letting me know that The Last Paige has issued a new column. I click on the provided link as soon as I can, my eyes flying over the text, right until the very end where my skin prickles with goosebumps.

You know that feeling when your comfort TV show is on the screen and you wrap yourself in a blanket that is the perfect temperature? That cozy feeling of things being just right. It’s what I attempted to make of my life. Pretty successfully, if I may add.

I surrounded myself with plants and pillows, my favorite people, and stuck to that feeling of coziness. I’ve metaphorically repeated my comfort show over and over again. And it’s fine. It’s my favorite show. But life is more than comfort. It’s plot twists, and butterflies in your stomach, and not knowing what comes next. And I’d dare say the best things happen outside of the comfort zone.

I’m finally ready to step out.

Hope blooms quickly in my stomach when a familiar voice breaks through the fog of my thoughts.

“Ryan!”

Fuck, I must be hallucinating. But then the voice calls out again.

“Ryan, wait!”

My head snaps back, noticing a mess of black hair bobbing up and down in the queue.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” a TSA agent speaks. “Oh, it’s you. The vibrator-smuggling girl.” The curly-haired woman recognizes Paige, whose neck breaks out in hives.

“Yeah, th-that’s me. I just need to get through.”

A guy wearing a three-piece suit and a headset turns toward Paige. “We all need to get through. That’s why there’s a line.”

My fists clench as I rush back to the line, but the TSA agent intervenes before I reach them. She lifts her palm in the man’s face. “This is an emergency. Let her through.”

“Th-thank you,” Paige tells her, shooting me a nervous glance.