Page 80 of Forked (Frenched 2)
Maybe it was. The next week of my life was all about Mia, but when I returned I’d reach out to him, even if I had to deal with Smug Sitty.
I drifted back to sleep, content for the first time all week.
#
The next day, I woke up at eight and took a run.
My head ached from too much red wine the night before, but I made myself do it, thinking about all the tasty meals I’d eat in France this week. I hadn’t packed any running clothes, but I planned to eat ALL the things.
After a shower, I put on a simple white cotton sundress that would be comfortable to travel in and added the final items to my suitcase. Mia had made me a list, of course, and I dutifully crossed off each item listed as I surveyed the contents before latching it shut. I had everything I needed. When I was ready to go, I looked longingly at the roses I’d brought home from the office. Damn you, Nick. Why won’t you call? Did you learn your lesson or not?
I picked up Erin, grateful for her excited chatter about our trip and the wedding and the prospect of hot groomsmen or wedding guests. I needed the distraction. But eventually she asked, “How are things with Nick?”
“Fuck if I know.” I settled into a chair at our gate. “He said Sunday he was going to fight for me, and then after all the hoopla last week, nothing. No surprise yesterday, and no phone call.”
“Maybe he lost his phone,” she said, laughing as she patted my arm.
“Ha. Right.” I opened the bottle of water I’d just bought and guzzled it, still a little dehydrated from all the wine plus my morning workout. “Honestly, I have no idea what he’s thinking. Half of me likes the anticipation and the other half can’t stand the suspense. Are we back together or aren’t we?”
“So you do want him back.”
“Yeah. I do.” I glanced at her. “Crazy?”
“Not at all. Especially since he gave me this to give to you.” Pulling an envelope from her purse, she handed it to me and grinned. “I’m the messenger pigeon. He told me to say that.”
Jaw open in disbelief, I screwed the cap back on my water and stared at the envelope. “What is that?”
“I don’t know. But it’s for you. He got in touch with me earlier this week and asked when we were leaving. Then he dropped this off at my apartment yesterday and told me to say nothing to you until we were here.” Her green eyes lit up. “He’s gorgeous. Gor- geous. Now open it. I’m dying!”
“Me too.” Sliding my finger beneath the seal, I tore it open and pulled out a hand-written note.
Black ink on a white handkerchief.
I smiled as I began to read his small, neat printing.
Dear Coco, I’m sure the red lipstick had more effect, but my black pen will have to do. Just wanted to tell you I love you and I miss you and I hope the surprises made you happy this week. I want to make you happy every day for the rest of your life if you’ll let me. See you soon. Love, Nick
“What does it say?” Erin demanded. “You’re killing me!”
I read it again to myself before reading it aloud to her, struggling to get the words out when my throat began to close.
“God, that’s so romantic,” she gushed. “But what’s with the handkerchief?”
I told her the story and she pounded the chair arm between us. “That’s so cute!”
“It is, isn’t it?” I fanned my face. “I think I might cry. God, I wish I could have seen him before I left. Why didn’t he bring this to me himself?”
As I read the note again, a deep voice came over the loudspeaker at the gate. “Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please?” I was so swept away by my feelings, I didn’t even realize the voice was familiar.
“Oh my God.” Erin’s hand gripped my wrist. “Coco.”
“What?” I glanced at her.
“Look.”
I looked up. Straight ahead, standing at the gate and speaking into the microphone (the man could charm anyone into anything, I swear), was Nick. And he was looking right at me as he repeated his request.
“Thank you,” he said as the buzz in the terminal quieted. “You see, I have to impress this woman over here.” He pointed at me. “The gorgeous woman in the white dress.”
