“Stay,” she said, pointing an irritated finger at Geri. Geri didnotstay, but shedidwander out of the room, tail held high, so Poppy considered that a win.
Sighing, she returned to her laptop and quickly clicked theBook Now!option on her flights before the hellspawnmasquerading as a cute housecat could return once more. Knowing her luck, the flights would’ve been snapped up by someone else during this whole debacle.
Typing in her card details, she waited with bated breath as the cursor spun in agonizingly slow circles, before finally the wordsSuccess! You have booked your flights!showed up on the screen.
“Thank goodness,” she muttered, finally allowing herself to relax a little. At this point, she needed a vacation from Geri more than anything else!
She brought up the accommodation booking page and entered her card details again, getting ready to seal the deal, when an email notification popped up. It was almost certainly a confirmation of her flights, and she clicked over to her email, just to double check before she booked her beach house.
Golden sands, here I come!
Poppy scanned the details of the email, only half paying attention.
Dates: check.
Times: check.
Destination:
… Where the heck is Arnott Airport? And why do I have tickets there?!
Poppy’s heart sank, as, with trembling fingers, she typed in a search forArnott Airport.
Her worst fears were confirmed as the results popped up: some tiny airport out in the middle of nowhere. Snow country. Near a bunch of mountains. The closest beach hundreds of miles away, and nary a palm tree to be found. Anddefinitelyno pina coladas.
She buried her face in her hands for the second time that evening, and a painful groan wrenched itself from the depths of her soul.
“Geriiiiiiiii,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. “What have youdone?!”
Through her fingers she saw Geri peering in through the doorway, her face the very embodiment of pure innocence.
“No,” said Poppy, turning back to her laptop and scrolling frantically through the terms and conditions of the tickets.
Non-refundable. Non-exchangeable. Non-enjoyable.
“No, no,no!” she wailed. Sheneededto feel the warm sand between her toes. Sheneededto bob about on a giant inflatable banana. She didnotneed to take a flight in a tiny propeller plane to an airport out in the sticks, or to slip over and break her butt on a patch of ice.
Why does the universe hate me so much?!
Despair engulfed her like a wave – a cold, nasty one, not a lovely tropical one – to the point where she found herself eating a mouthful of the now at least somewhat softened ice cream. It tasted just as foul as she remembered, and did nothing to dampen the anguish she was feeling.
Was she going to have to call Brett, fake a laugh, and say that her leave had been canceled after all, no need to come around and look after the world’s worst excuse for a cat? Because there was no way that she was going to book another flight on top of this one. She could justify the original one, but not another one. Not with no job, and no one to provide a reference. She could be unemployed formonths.
Self-pity is a bad look on you,a little voice said in her head, and she straightened up, startled.
But the voice was right. It was always right. It was the voice that always propelled her on, made her do the things she didn’t want to do but had to do anyway. It didn’t mean that shelikedit, but she had learned to listen to it.
She’d paid for the plane tickets. She couldn’t get them refunded.
Just go on the damn trip,the voice said.Who knows? You might be pleasantly surprised.
Poppy very much doubtedthat, but, well, it would still beat sitting around her apartment and moping.
Maybe. Hopefully.
Iwasjust complaining about the rain – it can’t rain if it’s too cold, right?she thought, trying to raise the slightest spark of interest. But it had been years since she’d last seen snow. Maybe it would be nice to do something unexpected. She could build a snowman, or go ice skating.
That could be fun. I guess.
