If I give her back her home, will she stay?
Chapter
Twelve
IRIS
Grabbingmy bag from the overhead bin, I wait for my turn to exit the plane. Unsurprisingly, the line in front of me is moving slowly. A couple argues next to me.
“I can’t believe you were texting him when I was right next to you,” the guy mutters.
“It’s not like that,” she whispers.
“Bullshit,” he hisses.
“Not here. We can talk about this when we get home,” she tells him harshly.
Damn, it looks like they didn’t have a good trip, but then again, play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
I make my way to the front of the plane, leaving the arguing couple behind.
“Thank you,” I tell the flight attendants as I pass by and exit the plane.
Weaving through all the people, I make my way through customs and then to baggage claim. I can’t help but wince whenI get all my bags back. Shit, I never thought this through. I hate manhandling three bags through crowds.
As soon as I step out of the restricted area, I hear a chuckle that sounds all too familiar. I look up in surprise to find Max waiting. “What are you doing here?”
When I reach him, he gives me a quick hug and kisses the top of my head. When he pulls back, I have to stop myself from stepping back into his arms.
That would be creepy, Iris.
“I’m here for you. I figured I could give you a ride home.” He shrugs as he takes two of my suitcases. “I knew you would struggle with all the luggage you always lug around.”
“Thanks, and I would appreciate that,” I tell him, loving that he knows me so well.
There is a familiarity in it. No one knows me the way he does. I don’t think anyone knows him the way I do either.
“So did you enjoy the few days to yourself?” he asks as we start making our way toward the outside.
“You know what? I did,” I tell him.
“What all did you do?”
I open my mouth to tell him about the interview but then remember he doesn’t know about it.
“Ate too much food. Watched a play. Slept. The usual,” I tell him.
It’s true, but it’s not the full truth.
Guilt eats at me, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Did I miss anything?” I ask.
“Nothing important,” he says. “I went back to Boston and saw the guys, so I guess I took a page from your book and took a few days off.”
Before I can ask anything else, I hear someone yell my name.
“Iris!”
