My phone buzzedat a little after six a.m., and I fumbled to pick it up one-handed, refusing to let go of the grip I had on Wes just yet.
Your flight has been moved to 8pm PDT tonight, check email for details.
I blinked at the notification, heart sinking.
I’d had until tomorrow morning. Dad had agreed to take me down to the airport for my nice, sensible late morning flight.
Now I’d lost almost a whole day.
I opened the email and checked frantically for a way to move the flight back, or catch a later one—but there was nothing available at such short notice.
The airline’s website was also unhelpful—I wasn’t sure why I’d expected anything else—and I’d promised Marissa I’d meet her for dinner Monday night, so we could figure out how to reopen Tuesday.
She was under enough stress as it was, I couldn’t make it worse.
I was halfway through checking other airlines to see if I could get a different flight with another airline when Wes woke, squeezing my fingers and frowning at me.
“No working in bed,” he said.
“My flight got moved,” I blurted out. “To tonight.”
Wes blinked at me, understanding dawning over his face.
We were all the way back tobrave, and I hated it. I hated the distance it put between us, this stupidthingwhere I had a life that was away from Wes, and he had a life that was away from me, and neither of us could just give it up.
“That’s okay,” Wes said, running his thumb over my knuckles, soothing me. “I’ll just have to do all the things I was planning on doing tonight this morning.”
And just like that, the pain and worry was gone again. I loved him so much.
We were perfect for each other. Thishadto work out. Didn’t it?
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
Wes shook his head. “I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, even if you wanted me to be,” he said. “I know you’re not doing this to hurt me.”
“I don’t think I could ever hurt you,” I murmured. “Not intentionally, anyway.”
Wes plucked my phone out of my hands and set it aside, snuggling close and kissing the tip of my nose.
“When did the flight move to?” he asked.
“Eight o’clock tonight.”
Wes hummed, rolling over to grab his own phone.
“I’m setting an alarm for eight a.m., all right? We’re not getting out of this bed until it goes off. AndI’lltake you to the airport. Your dad won’t wanna drive back in the dark, anyway.”
“What’re we gonna do for two hours?” I asked, wide awake now and not in the mood to go back to sleep.
Wes looked me up and down, a sly little smile spreading over his lips. “How sore is your butt?”
“Uh.” I took a moment to take stock of every body ache I was feeling right now, muscles that weren’t used to movingquitelike they had last night protesting quietly but firmly. “Not looking forward to a seven-hour flight.”
Wes hummed, walking his fingers along my collarbone. “Then I should probably kiss it better, right?”
27
Wes
