“Would you excuse me, please,” I whispered at Ryan’s mother before rising from the dinner table. “I’m going to make sure he’s all right.” I grabbed my coat from the closet and called Ryan’s cell.

“Honey, come back for me. I want to go for a ride too. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Chapter 26 - Tests

“Call me once you’re in the limo, okay?” Ryan sighed. “Just so I know you made it home safely.”

I could see the sadness clearly in his expression. It matched my own. We both knew it would be almost three weeks until we saw each other again, and the last minutes we had together were flying by. He turned his Shelby onto the main road that led into the airport.

“I will.” I sniffed, trying not to cry. I didn’t want to leave but I had to get back to running my pub. Ryan was planning to spend some well-earned time away with his friends, Matt and Scott, and his brother before leaving for Scotland. The four men were going hunting. He and his brother also had some making-up to do.

“You know you really didn’t need to do this… Marie or Pete could have picked me up,” I muttered.

“Taryn,” he groaned, looking over at me. “You know why. I don’t like that you’re flying home alone either.”

I stared out my window, thinking that he worried too much. Our stalker was incarcerated and most of the Seaside fans left town once the filming wrapped. The reasons to be frightened and paranoid were gone.

“I’ll be all right. You should stop worrying,” I whispered.

He shook his head at me; his lips frowned at my words.

All too soon we were parked in front of the doors for departing flights.

I leaned across the center console and kissed him. I had to turn my Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat on his head so the visor would be out of my way.

“I love you,” I uttered, missing him already.

“I love you too. I’ll see you in L.A. on the sixteenth.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me again. “It’s going to feel like forever,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

I turned to look at him one last time before walking into the airport… alone. No security, no police escort, no one taking my picture, no one shouting my name or his. No one really even looked at me. I stood in line to go through baggage screening and security completely unnoticed. The airport was busy with holiday travelers, but none of those travelers even looked twice at me.

I sat in the waiting area right outside my gate, not hidden away in some VIP lounge. There was no reason to hide. It dawned on me that my heart rate was… normal. My heart wasn’t pounding in my chest like it was when we first started this trip. Fear was pleasantly absent from my blood. a young woman approached me. She gently smiled before asking if the seat next to me was taken. I smiled slightly to myself; I didn’t even make a blip on her radar.

The only difference between this flight home and any other flight I’d ever taken was that I was flying first class instead of sitting in the economy seats in the back of the plane. Flying first class definitely had its perks but the actual flights were so short that it didn’t really matter what seat I had to sit in to get home. I said a little prayer of thanks when my plane finally landed in Providence. I was not a fan of flying either.

I pulled the handle out on my little suitcase, adjusted my backpack on my shoulder, and followed the other passengers towards the exit. I looked around at the people waiting for family and loved ones to arrive, wishing I would have been able to come home to familiar faces waiting for me.

Instead, some stranger would be taking me home. That thought made me feel even lonelier. I fought the impulse to call Marie so many times to ask her to pick me up, only because I knew Ryan was paying for this ride home personally out of his pocket. Besides, he insisted on a security escort.

Which one of these strangers is my driver?

I noticed his face first before I read the little sign that he held in front of his body which had “Mitchell” written on it. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment; fate certainly had a wicked sense of humor.

He smiled at me, but it wasn’t one of those “I’m smiling because I have to be nice to you” smiles; it was more of a smirk – like he was committing a crime by standing there holding my name on a card. I stopped in front of him and took a deep breath before I found the guts to say hello.

“Welcome home!” Kyle said smugly. “Can I take your luggage for you, Ms. Mitchell?”

He carried my suitcase and ushered me out to the car, which again, was another surprise. I had expected the typical black sedan or an SUV;