I count to ten...slowly. This man is exasperating. “I’ve got to deal with something in Philadelphia.”
“Ahh... The prodigal princess returns.” His lips and brow both arch, mocking me. “First time in what—five years, Ace?”
Oh my God. I’m going to kill him.
“It hasn’t been that long.” I grip my bag tighter, wishing I were anywhere but here. “And don’t call me Ace.”
“You also don’t miss opportunities to be dramatic.” His stupid smile spreads, and I fight the urge to kick him in the shins like I would when we were kids. Or the balls, like I wouldn’t mind doing, now that we’re grown.
“The same way you never miss an opportunity to irritate the hell out of me, Murphy.” Okay. Not my best comeback, but in my defense, I’ve been at this freaking airport for six hours. Six. Hours. And that was after getting a call from the public defender I now happen to be on a first-name basis with, informing me of my mother’s accident and subsequent arrest.
A heavy fog caused all flights to be grounded this morning, which,lucky me, meant the flight I was able to book for this afternoon has been delayed... how many times now? I glance over to the windows lining the concourse and groan. There was still daylight when I got here. Something we don’t have now. And that was before it started snowing.
“Yet here I am,” Jamie taunts. “Thriving.”
“Why are you here, Murphy?” What are the odds?
His body tenses as his green eyes harden and a masks slips in place. “My cousin Hendrix’s wife died a few months ago. Football season’s over, so I flew in to catch a few of his games and hang with him and his kid.”
Oh . . . That.
“I was sorry to hear about that,” I murmur, my heart tightening before the intercom crackles, and every passenger within earshot collectively holds their breath.
Attention, travelers... Due to the mix of snow and ice?—
A groan ripples collectively through the crowd, and I close my eyes and count... again.
Of course?—
Of course it’s snowing.
Of course it’s delayed. Again.
Of course it’s today.
Of course he’s here.
Wait... I continue listening, this time catching the word canceled.
When the urge to hyperventilate finally passes, I force my eyes open to find Jamie watching me, his hardened gaze gone and a smile back in place. One directed at me.
“Seriously?” I groan. “Canceled . . .”
“Hey, look on the bright side?—”
“There is no bright side,” I interrupt, my stomach flipping...again.
“You could be stuck alone,” he offers with a wink.
Oh. My. God. I hate this man.
I look from him to the fifty people practically standing on top of each other, waiting to get more details from the gate agent, and my stomach sinks. “That would be preferable.”
“Ouch.” The idiot presses both hands to his chest like he’s been hit. “That hurts, Ace. I thought we were friends.”
“Your brother is my friend, hot shot.” I motion between Jamie and myself. “We have never been friends.”
Not really.
