The couple’s initial surprise turned to elation as they granted Trent with the kind of enthusiastic handshake and hug a long-lost friend received. Trent made quickie introductions. Either he didn’t think she could retain new info in her anxious condition—which was probably accurate—or they’d legally changed their names to Elvis and Marilyn. After Trent gave them the Cliff’s Notes version of her predicament, they insisted on giving them a ride to the airport before Trent had the chance to ask, beg, or grovel on Alyssa’s behalf.
As she climbed into the back and pulled the yards of fabric in behind her, relief and hope flooded her system. Thirty seconds later that feeling was replaced by nausea as Elvis navigated the crazy Vegas traffic with the all the finesse of a stunt driver.
The only thing that kept her from detailing the white leather with her lunch was Marilyn’s game of 20 Questions. The woman asked about her and Dillon and the events that led up to the need for a NASCAR escort to the airport. Alyssa was thankful for the distraction and found the couple’s sincerity and comedic back-and-forth endearing. That, and the fact that Trent had known them for years, helped her feel at ease with them, despite Elvis’s driving.
Fifteen harrowing minutes later they pulled up to the departing terminal and jumped out of the car. Elvis tossed the keys to a waiting valet and they rushed through the automatic sliding glass doors. They’d no sooner crossed the threshold when they came to an abrupt stop. Hundreds of eyes were now staring at them as though someone had announced their arrival. Alyssa imagined the stories that would be told for years to come. So, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, a bride, and a gay guy walk into the Vegas airport… It sounded like a bad joke.
“It’s a ball gown,” she muttered under her breath.
Marilyn leaned closer. “What was that, dear?”
“Oh, nothing.” Verbally arguing with people about their assumed future conversations was probably a good indication of a nervous breakdown. Perfect. “Now what do we do?”
“There he is. Come on.”
“There who is?”
Trent grabbed Alyssa’s hand and led their foursome over to a gorgeous blond. The sleeves of his polo shirt hugged his muscular biceps, and the security badge dangling from a lanyard around his neck drew attention to the defined pecs underneath. Add in the not-a-hair-out-of-place cut, evenly tanned skin, and ice-blue eyes and the guy looked like Barbie’s other half.
“Alyssa, this is Will. If anyone can get us where we need to go in this airport, it’s him. He’s the most manipulative man I know.” Will arched a brow in Trent’s direction as if to say And…? Trent released a resigned sigh and finished with, “He’s also my ex-boyfriend.”
Alyssa blinked her surprise. O-kayyyy. Big, hunky dude was apparently Trent’s other half. Or used to be, anyway.
“Guilty as charged on all counts,” Will stated with a quick wink, then cut a look over to Trent. “Though I’d rather the ‘ex’ part was left off that last one.”
Trent shot him a warning with narrowed eyes. “Don’t start.”
A smile and deep chuckle transformed Will’s stunning good looks to downright panty-melting. Or brief-melting, as it were. He turned and held Alyssa by the shoulders, his hands as large as Dillon’s, but missing the rough calluses that caused her skin to tingle. “You, my dear, are absolutely stunning. Come on. Let’s get you to your Prince Charming.”
She exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”
As apparently everyone was wont to do with her tonight, Will grasped her hand and led her through the throng of travelers milling in the airport. “If I’d known a damsel in distress would get me a phone call, I would’ve sent one your way weeks ago, Trenton.”
“Seriously?” Trent pressed a hand to his chest and gave Will a look of disbelief. “I’m the one who got a Dear Trent letter with a P.S. I’m taking the cat. Which, BTW, was total BS because I picked out Sinatra in the first place.”
Will smiled over at the rest of them. “I named him, though. He has the most beautiful blue eyes.” Then back to Trent said, “You can’t deny you didn’t think living together wasn’t working out.”
The small group clipped along, rounding a corner and just barely sidestepping an old couple toddling along the windows of a gift shop.
“All I said was stop drinking all the damn Grey Goose. You’re the one who blew it out of proportion.”
“Maybe I wanted you to stop me.”
Trent whipped his gaze over, clearly shocked by his ex’s statement. He opened his mouth to respond, but Alyssa jumped in with a question of her own before things got too heavy. “How do we get through security?”
Will nodded at a Salma Hayek look-alike. “Connie Garcia.”
“She’s going to let us through?”
The woman winked in response and began winding her way toward a human version of Oscar the Grouch in a TSA uniform shirt that strained at the buttons. “No, she’s going to work her magic on Henry Rivers.”
“And then he’s going to let us through?” she asked hopeful.
“No, once he’s distracted we can sneak past to get to Pat.”
“Never mind,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll just try to go with the flow.”
He smiled. “Good idea.”
They watched as Connie reached her target. She struck up a conversation and expertly drew his attention to her ample cleavage with a seemingly innocent scratch with her French-manicured nail. Then she laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“That’s our cue,” Will said. “Everybody act normal and follow me.”
Knots tied and retied themselves in Alyssa’s stomach. She’d always been a rule follower, and this wasn’t like parking in a handicapped spot. The government didn’t mess around when it came to airport security, not these days. Images of them being dragged into a remote room for interrogation and body-cavity probing flooded her mind.
Grabbing Will’s arm with both hands, Alyssa prevented him from going anywhere. “I don’t want to go to jail. I’m thinking maybe this is a bad idea. And by ‘maybe’ I mean definitely.”
Will gently pried her fingers from his biceps as he spoke low enough for only her to hear. “I might still be crazy about Trent, but that doesn’t make me crazy in the head. I wouldn’t do this for him if I thought my job, much less my freedom, was at stake. You just have to trust me, and we’ll be on the other side in no time. Okay?”
Alyssa studied his bright blue eyes and felt her blood pressure go down a few notches. Though her head still screamed for her to turn around, her heart was about to board a plane somewhere on the other side of those security gates. Trent might be the Wizard of Oz, but Will was Glinda the Good Witch. He was the only one who could get her to where she needed to be.
Nodding her head with renewed confidence, she said, “Yeah, okay.”
“Atta girl,” he said, softly chucking her beneath the chin before giving the sign to the group that the plan was still a go.
They played follow the leader over to the corralled security area where he opened a section and gave it to Trent who hooked it back up once they were all through. Will led them to a sweet-looking old lady with white hair and more wrinkles than a shar-pei puppy. Back and forth, she paced on the other side of the security arches, helping the more travel-challenged individuals find their bins and get on their way.
As soon as she saw them, she moved off to the side and held open a small swinging door and motioned them forward.
One by one, they passed through without a single alarm going off. Will kept walking so they kept following, past the stainless steel tables backed up with bins of belongings and past the “Recombobulation Area” where travelers desperately tried to redo everything they were just forced to undo.
“Hurry, we have to take the tram to the D Gates.”
The motley crew hustled to the boarding area for the tram and arrived just as the doors opened to accept passengers. They piled in and all grabbed a pole. Will turned around to do a head count like a teacher on a field
trip. “Everyone in?”
“Yep,” Elvis answered. “Looks like we’re in the clear.”
“Thanks to me and Pat,” a woman with a feminine, accented voice said behind them.
The group turned to see Connie and Pat rush on before the doors closed securely behind them and the tram began to move.
Will bent down to buss the older lady’s soft cheek with a quick kiss before bestowing the same on Connie. “Thanks for helping out, ladies.”
Alyssa held her hand out to shake theirs in relief and gratitude. “Yes, thank you both so much. I truly appreciate it.”
Connie’s eyes sparkled. “It will be thanks enough to see you reunite with your man.” She sighed wistfully. “It is very romantic, no?”
Holy shit, if this kept up, she’d have a live studio audience worthy of a daytime talk show. She tried not to think about that as the tram slowed to a stop. When the doors opened, everyone spilled out into the lower level like a clown car in a circus. While most of the travelers walked briskly toward the escalators, their party walked even brisker.
As Alyssa hoisted her skirts up and hopped onto one of the moving metal steps, she heard a woman’s voice echoing from above. “Last call for Frontier Flight 756 to Denver. We’ll be closing the doors and departing in five minutes.”
A bolt of panic shot through her as she looked to her ringleaders for confirmation that she’d heard wrong. There had to be at least thirty minutes before his plane left.
Will cursed and peered down at her with bad news in his eyes. “They must have moved the time up. And the gate is on the other side of the terminal.”
They stepped off the escalator and moved off to the side to let the people behind them continue on. Connie’s lush mouth turned down in pouty empathy. “Even if we run we will never make it in time. I am so sorry, mija.”
Alyssa swallowed past the lump of disappointment in her throat, then took a deep breath in until it dissolved completely. It had no right to be there. These people had gone above and beyond to help her and she wasn’t about to discredit that with a pity party. “That’s okay,” she said, trying her best to tug up the corners of her mouth. “It was a crazy idea to begin with. I’m not usually so impulsive.”
“Maybe you won’t have to wait that long after all,” Pat said. “Look! We can hitch a ride with Charlie.”
Six pairs of eyes followed to where Pat pointed to a man driving a stretch golf-cart thing with three benches—two facing forward and one facing back. Sitting next to Charlie was a showgirl with giant turquoise plumes sticking out of her headdress like a peacock in full strut mode. Her left calf rested on the dash of the cart with an ice pack strapped to her ankle.
“It’ll be close, but it’s worth a shot.” Will ran after Charlie. His athletically large frame dodged people in his path like a football player avoiding the defensive line on his way to the end zone. It took less than a minute for Will to stop him, give a quick explanation, and get him turned around to pick up the rest of them. Extending his hand to Alyssa, he smiled. “Your chariot, m’lady.”
She placed her hand in his and climbed in next to him as everyone else found themselves a seat. Charlie warned them to hang on and then the cart jerked forward as he put his foot to the floor. When the whining of the electric battery didn’t warn people of their approach, Charlie honked the horn and parted the crowd like Moses of the TSA. Alyssa’s heart beat a crushing rhythm against her ribs despite her slow breaths and reminding herself that it wasn’t likely they would catch the plane in time.
The showgirl twisted in her seat the best she could and said, “Hi, I’m Amber.”
“I’m Alyssa. Sorry for hijacking your ride. What did you do to your ankle?”
Amber glanced at it with a disgusted look on her heavily made-up face. “Rolled it. That’ll teach me to buy knockoff heels.” She held up the offending shoe in one hand and its spiked heel in the other.
“Yikes. I hope you recover quickly.”
“Thanks. Me, too.” Amber looked wistfully at Alyssa’s gown. “I love your wedding dress, by the way. You look beautiful.”
“Oh, um, thanks,” Alyssa replied awkwardly, “but this isn’t a wedding dress. I was going to a masquerade ball. It just happens to be white so…”
Amber’s eyes narrowed as though she were thinking hard or trying to recall something. “Are you sure? Because my cousin got married about three months ago, and even though I had a lot of champagne, I’m almost positive she had the same dress.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Why did everyone care what kind of dress she wore? Right then and there Alyssa vowed to never wear a white dress again until her actual wedding day. If that day should ever come to pass. “Really? Huh.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess anything is possible.”
Over the last minute, the density of travelers had thinned considerably until now their cart had no obstacles whatsoever. Alyssa searched for signs of airline life—flight attendants ushering on the last few passengers, people dragging their carry-ons behind them as they disappeared into the gangway, anything that would tell her she still had precious seconds left to get to Dillon—but there were none.
The only thing she did see was Dillon’s plane pulling away from the gate to taxi its way into position for takeoff.
Charlie pulled the cart to a quick stop. Alyssa ran to the wall of windows, the flat of her hands slamming against the glass as her heart got stuck in her throat. Logically, she knew it wasn’t the end of the world. She knew that she would see Dillon eventually and that she could tell him how she felt then. That she could and would apologize for being so blind, so afraid, and hurting him like she had. It was only a little matter of the world turning several more times. Not very much at all.
Except that wasn’t how it felt.
As tears streamed silently down her cheeks, she closed her eyes and thought of how strange time was. It ticked away in exact increments, never changing no matter where you were in the world. Whether in Rome, Italy or Rome, Wisconsin, a day was twenty-four hours long. One thousand four hundred and forty minutes. Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds.
And yet, for something that was so mathematically sound and scientifically constant, time could feel so relative.
Alyssa had spent the last twenty-four hours with Dillon as lovers. Long spans of time had been eaten up as he explored every inch of her body with his hands and mouth, learning what she liked and what drove her positively crazy. But that day passed in the blink of an eye, gone before she’d even had time to fully appreciate the magic of what they’d shared.
Unfortunately, the day she now had ahead of her wouldn’t go nearly as quick. Instead, the hands on her watch would drag with each passing hour until the minutes barely crawled and the seconds mocked her with stutters and pauses. And it would only get worse until she finally saw him again.
“You okay, sweetie?”
Trent’s words and arm wrapped around her in a compassionate embrace. Alyssa wiped the tears from her face and blinked the rest back. She turned to see the whole group fanned out around her with concern for her—someone they’d only just met—etched into their features. If she’d ever doubted in the kindness of strangers, it would have been eradicated in that moment.
“Thank you, all of you, for putting your lives on hold—and maybe even your jobs on the line—to help me. I’m just sorry it was all for nothing.”
Marilyn reached out and gathered Alyssa’s hands in hers. “Everything will work out, honey, you’ll see. The most important thing is that he loves you. The rest is just details.”
Alyssa gave the woman a quick squeeze before letting her go. “I’m fine,” she said. Looks of doubt or outright disbelief met her gaze. “Really, I am. I’ll just tell him everything another time.”
“Why don’t you tell me now?”
…
Dillon had to assume he was sleepwalking, but with the deafening buzz of his swarming thoughts and the piercing headache punishing his skull, he’d doubted even a
bed at The Ritz could have lulled him to sleep. However, when he considered the scene in front of him, dreaming was the only logical explanation. Either that or he was being Punk’d.
A small group of people—Correction. A strange group of people, half in airline uniforms with the other half in costumes, stood in the empty terminal. An older gentleman had his arm around the waist of a mostly naked showgirl standing on one leg. A dude too good-looking to be anything other than a model or one of those actors you see in a dozen movies but never know their names was arm in arm with a baby-faced ringmaster wearing a tux puked up by the hotel that was puked up by Mardi Gras. The rest of the ensemble consisted of Salma Hayek, Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and Betty White, celebrities that ranged from young to dead to, well, almost dead.
And in the center of it all, still wearing the regal white gown from earlier, Alyssa held court like a queen over her oddly random subjects.
“Why aren’t you on the plane?”
Because the thought of not having you in my life terrifies me. Because even if it makes me the biggest pussy in the world, I planned to beg you for a chance to show you how happy I can make you. Dillon locked those thoughts down. If he’d learned anything in Vegas, it was to hold his cards a lot closer to his chest. So he offered her a half shrug and said, “My horoscope said I should stay away from pressurized metal tubes today.”
“Dillon…” She exhaled his name as though the very sound was a balm to her soul. It sure as hell worked on his. Next to her shouting it when he made her come, saying his name with love on her lips was the best thing he’d ever heard.
Unlike everything he’d heard from her earlier.
He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, the sound giving life to the scratches her cold words had etched onto his heart. “Why are you here, Alyssa?”
“I, um, wanted to apologize for the things I said earlier.”
Dillon raised an eyebrow and glanced at their eclectic audience. “You came all the way here…with them…to apologize?”
“Yes. Wait, no. I mean—” Alyssa huffed out a frustrated breath. Taking a step toward him, she tried again. “You were right earlier. I am in love with you, Dillon. Crazy, hopelessly in love. I’ve known for a long time, but I was too afraid to tell you.”