I put my hands between them, breaking up the verbal battle. I glance to my left and lock eyes with Brooke. “It better not be like this between the two of you every day in the shop. I’m telling you right now, I’m not putting up with it. I’ll have enough stress on me next week as it is.”
“I can be civil,” Brooke states, feigning affection toward Joey. He rolls his eyes and turns around, entering quiet conversation with Billy, which I’m sure is revolving around the hot mess sitting next to me. Brooke offers me a genuine smile. “Thank you, by the way. You’re really helping me out here.”
“You’re welcome, but be warned. I don’t care that you’re my best friend’s sister; I will fire you if you and Joey can’t get along.”
She nods her understanding, buckling her seatbelt and prompting me to do the same. The flight attendants begin their safety demonstrations in the aisle as Joey continues to animatedly gesture to Billy.
Juls leans over me and taps her sister’s knee. “Do us all a favor and try not to torment him too much this weekend. Don’t make me regret inviting you to this.”
Brooke huffs and scowls in the direction of her sister. “Everyone needs to relax. Jesus Christ, you all act like I’m incapable of handing myself in public.”
Thankfully, at that exact moment, the flight attendant stops in front of our row with the cart of beverages, preventing a rebuttal from Juls and myself. “Would anyone like anything?”
“Liquor,” we all answer simultaneously. The flight attendant smiles and hands out mini-bottles of vodka which none of us waste any time in downing.
“All cell phones off, please. We’re about to take off.”
Everyone reaches into their pockets and messes with their phones. I notice the text message on my screen and open it with the same nervous excitement I always have when I see his name.
Reese: Eight more days, love. Get your ass here already.
Me: Hurrying. And you can do better than eight more days. Put that brain to work, handsome.
I power off my phone and tuck it away, relaxing against my seat. Eight more days that can’t get here soon enough.
“Holy Hell. This place is fabulous.”
I hear Joey’s voice register somewhere in the house as I make my way upstairs toward the bedrooms. He isn’t lying, though; this place is fabulous. My man did well. It looks like a civil war-era mansion from the outside, and the inside is very rustic and warm. The kitchen and living area are downstairs, both spacious and lovely, and the house is equipped with three bedrooms. I open the first door I come to and notice the brown, worn-leather luggage on the bed that screams Ian in every way.
“Juls, your room is the one on the right,” I yell over my shoulder toward the stairs. She’s probably too busy moderating downstairs to even hear me at the moment, but I give her a heads-up anyway.
I open the room across the hall and am immediately hit in the face with my favorite smell in the world. Reese has probably only spent a limited amount of time in here, considering he and Ian had to meet with the client shortly after arriving earlier today, but his scent is already saturating the space we’ll share for the next two days. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
I drop my suitcase next to his on the floor by the dresser and spot his iPod laying on one of the pillows on the bed. A tiny brown card is next to it. I crawl up the length of the bed and grab the iPod, setting it on my stomach as I open the familiar card.
Dylan,
64,863 seconds. (Give or take a few depending on when you read this note.)
X, Reese