Page 96 of Life’s Too Short

“Yeah, but you know it’s coming. You know it’s going to happen.”

“That’s just looking at the sun, Adrian. Fuck what’s coming. Don’t focus on what’s going to happen. Or in this case, what might happen. Because who knows, you might get there and realize that you’ve built this whole thing up in your head. You might get on that plane and find out that you’re stronger than you think and you’re capable of anything.” She smiled at me. “And you are. I’ve never known anyone as capable as you.”

She kissed me gently. Then she leapt off the bed and went to the bathroom. I watched her go and waited for the door to click closed before I clutched a hand over my racing heart. The fact that I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath and we hadn’t even left the apartment yet should have been an indication.

My day didn’t go well. I couldn’t focus at work. I kept thinking about the plane ride. It was ridiculous, and I was getting pissed off at myself.

What was the big deal? It was three hours. That’s it. I could do anything for three hours. I’d sat in a prison for a week interviewing a client who’d chopped his neighbor up with an ax. I couldn’t get on a fucking airplane?

I tried to push it from my mind like she said. She was right. Maybe if I didn’t let myself dwell on it, I could just show up and tear the Band-Aid off. I’d walk onto that plane and just do it.

Ten hours later we were in the airport parking lot. Grace had been dropped off. Our bags were in the trunk. We’d checked in online and Vanessa had rolled essential oils on my pressure points and held my hand the whole way there.

I had a panic attack before I even got out of the car.

CHAPTER 24

7 SMALL TOWNS YOU MUST VISIT IN YOUR LIFETIME (YOU’LL LOVE #1)

VANESSA

We drove down a tiny main street with an enormous MERRY CHRISTMAS garland draped over the entrance. It was Christmas Eve and we’d just arrived in Nebraska to spend the holiday with Adrian’s mom and dad.

All the businesses were decked out for the holiday with Christmas lights and wreaths. It was snowing gently and people in parkas were bustling up and down the sidewalks with bags on their arms.

“This town looks like a Hallmark movie,” I said, petting Harry Puppins in my lap. “I feel like a big-city girl who’s about to learn the spirit of Christmas from a handsome local bachelor in a chunky reindeer sweater.”

Adrian laughed. “I hope not, since I don’t own that sweater.” Then his smile fell a little. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wish we could have flown here.”

The airport panic attack had been four days ago, and he was still apologizing for it. He didn’t have to.

“It’s okay,” I said again. “I told you I appreciated you even trying.”

His jaw flexed. “It’s not okay.”

“When I have to do overseas stuff, I’ll just go without you,” I said. “I’ll come back as fast as I can.”

The lines in his forehead got deeper. This suggestion obviously wasn’t helping.

I put a hand on his arm. “Or, we can do local stuff so I can stay with you. We can do a weekend series on the best bed-and-breakfasts in Minnesota. And then when you get time off we’ll do cruise ships and road trips like this one. Rent an RV and explore all the cool campgrounds. We’ll figure it out. It’s not a big deal.”

But I could see in the set of his body that it was.

He was disappointed in himself. This wasn’t a man who was used to failing. At anything.

“I kinda thought it might happen,” I admitted. “I have a backup Christmas gift for you and everything.”

He glanced at me with a weak smile.

I think on top of this, he was stressed out about this weekend, about seeing his dad again. I fully planned on greasing this entire situation. I was going to make sure he had a good time no matter what. I’d pull him into broom closets for blow jobs if the circumstances required it.

I sorta hoped the circumstances required it.

We drove another two minutes and then turned down a tree-lined drive to a beautiful Victorian house. Adrian pulled up behind an old beater truck and put the car in park. He didn’t move to get out.

“Is this it?” I asked, looking over at him.

He sat there, staring at the house. “I haven’t been here in almost two decades,” he said quietly.