My flight from New Orleans had landed late, and I had exactly fifteen minutes to make it to Gate C15 for my connection to Los Angeles.
I couldn’t believe I was flying across the country to tell Luke Fisher how I felt. The thought alone made my stomach flip.
What if I got there, and he didn’t feel the same? What if he thought I was just some desperate, clingy girl who couldn’t let go?
But I’d spent too much of my life running from fear and rejection. Not this time.
The terminal was a blur of announcements, fast-walking travelers, and the ever-present smell of overpriced coffee. My heartbeat pounded louder than the chaos around me as I zigzagged past people, clutching my boarding pass like it was a lifeline.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled to answer while dodging a family with an alarming number of suitcases.
“Hi, Anna, this is Luke’s assistant,” the cheerful voice chirped on the other end. “I’m returning your call. Luke isn’t in LA right now. He finished shooting early, and he’s traveling. I think he’s in Atlanta today.”
The words hit me like a slap, and my feet slowed to a stop. “Atlanta?”
“Yeah, I believe that’s where he is. Should I pass along a message?”
“No,” I managed, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “No message.”
I hung up, staring blankly at the bustling terminal around me. What was I even doing? Flying to LA for someone who wasn’t even there? My stomach twisted as the doubts I’d been suppressing all day rose to the surface.
This was a mistake. A stupid, impulsive mistake. I should turn around, go home, and pretend this whole thing never happened.
My pace slowed to a walk as the energy drained from my body. My grip on my printed boarding pass loosened, and for a second, I considered crumpling it and walking away. What was the point?
But something kept me moving forward, one step at a time, until I rounded the corner and reached the gate.
That’s when I saw the hoodie.
54
LUKE
The last thingI wanted was to end up stranded in Chicago when I was so close to getting back to Anna. I adjusted my sunglasses and tried to focus on Hal, who was scanning the gate area with his usual vigilance. Tom stood a few feet away, arms crossed, doing the same.
My phone buzzed, and relief flooded me. Finally, there must be some news. Topher’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hey,” I said, stepping aside with Hal shadowing me protectively to avoid the flow of foot traffic.
“Don’t get too excited,” Topher said. “I just talked to someone at Muses. Anna’s not in New Orleans.”
I froze. Hal's head turned slightly toward me, picking up on my shift in body language. “What do you mean she’s not there?”
“She went on vacation. They thought maybe New York or North Carolina. I don’t know. They weren’t exactly chatty about it.”
Vacation? My grip tightened on the phone. “You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not,” Topher said. “I know this throws a wrench in your grand gesture, but?—”
“But nothing,” I retorted, running a hand through my hair. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before I bought a plane ticket? My assistant tried to route me through Atlanta, of all places.”
“Atlanta?” Topher let out a dry laugh. “That’s the worst way to get to New Orleans. You’ve been flying all day to go in circles.”
“Yeah, thanks for the geography lesson,” I bit back, pacing the terminal as irritation churned in my chest. “Maybe I should’ve taken Gerald Fargo up on his offer to fly on his private jet.”
“You think?” Topher deadpanned. “You’ve been running on adrenaline and bad ideas for weeks, Luke. Maybe it’s time to sit down and think this through.”
“Think this through?” I stopped short, glaring at a row of plastic airport chairs in Gate C16 as if they were to blame for my situation. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else but Anna. She’s all I’ve thought about since I left.”
