“You really don’t have to stay,” I tell him, hugging my arms around myself. My T-shirt and thin jacket are no match for the freezing temperatures inside the tiny terminal. Our bags are still all checked, and my carryon was too full of bridal stuff to fit an extra sweater. “I can figure it out.”
Daniel doesn’t move. “I’ve got time,” he gives me a wry smile. “It’s not like I’ve got anyplace else to be.”
“I know, but …” I trail off, trying to think of an excuse to have him leave that doesn’t involve the fact he’s too damn gorgeous standing there beside me. Luckily, I’m interrupted by a commotion in the line ahead.
I look up, and realize from the scowls and scattering crowd that there’s nothing lucky about it.
“What’s going on?” I ask, with a sinking heart, but people are heading away from the booth. I push my way forwards to the front, where a bored-looking guy is putting out a sign.
‘No rentals available.’
No freaking way.
“Hi!” I paste on my brightest smile and try and hide the note of despair in my voice. “I need a car.”
He doesn’t reply, just points at the sign.
“Yes, I know it says there’s nothing, but surely you can help me?” I bat my eyelashes at him. “Like, a beat-up old car with no AC and stick-shift. Anything, I swear I’m not picky.”
“All our vehicles are out.” He sighs. “Try us again in the morning.”
“Tomorrow is too late!” I protest.
“I’m sorry,” he sounds anything but. “Can’t help you.”
“But …” My protest dies on my lips as I realize just how screwed I am. It’s already late, and flights won’t go out until the morning— at the earliest. If there are no cars, I can’t get to Beachwood Bay. Never mind the bachelorette, if I don’t get there by tomorrow, there’ll be nobody to set up, organize the decorations, deal with the food, keep Juliet from losing her mind …
“Oh god,” I whimper, turning to Daniel in horror. “I’ve ruined the wedding. All that planning, everything. It’s going to suck, and it’s all my fault!”
“Shh, it’ll be OK,” Daniel strides forwards to the counter. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”
The guy rolls his eyes. “I can’t magic a car out of nowhere,” he snaps, sarcastic, and I feel Daniel tense. But he takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is warm and friendly.
“Hey man, I get it. Not your fault.” Daniel leans in, conspiratorial. “But the problem is, we’re kind of in a bind here. Say, what would you do, if you were in our situation?”
The guy pauses, then gives a reluctant shrug. “I don’t know. Get a room at the hotel, I guess. You can leave your number with me, and I’ll have someone call if anything gets returned. Maybe someone will drop a car back early, tonight.”
“Yes!” I cry, leaping forwards, “Thank you, thank you!” I quickly scribble my details down, and push it across the counter to him. “Call the minute something comes in,” I beg, “And I’ll love you forever.”
Daniel pulls me back. “What she means is, we appreciate it.”
He steers me away from the counter before I can do anything else embarrassing, like rip off my clothes and offer to trade my body for four wheels and a full gas tank.
“See, that’s half the battle,” he says encouragingly. “Now we just have to sit tight, and wait for the storm to break.”
“Sitting tight is not part of my skill-set,” I grumble, following him outside. “Holy shit!” I gasp as the cold hits me, snow hitting my body in a wet rush. Daniel quickly strips off his coat and wraps it around my shoulders, quelling my protest with a look.
“Come on!” He grabs my case, and quickly leads the way across the street to the airport hotel. It’s nothing fancy, but as we hurtle through the front entrance and leave the freezing snow outside, the muzak in the lobby sounds like a choir of heavenly angels. I stamp my soaking sneakers on the worn beige carpet and let out a sigh of relief. Warm. Dry. I couldn’t be happier if it was the Ritz.
“Wow, this place is packed.” Daniel looks around. The lobby is teeming with people, and not just grouchy-looking travelers from our flight: there are groups of middle-aged men everywhere, wearing khakis and suit jackets, clutching glasses of wine like they’re stuck in the most awkward social mixer ever.
“Weird.” I cut through the crowd towards the front desk. This time, the woman on reception is as perky as her perm: she taps away at her computer for just a moment before checking me in and sliding over a keycard.
“You’re lucky,” she chirps. “You guys got the last room.”
What?
I look at Daniel, who’s staring back at me in horror. “But we’re not … He’s not … I mean, he needs a room too!” I squark. “A different room!”
The woman’s face falls. “I thought … I’m so sorry, that was the last one. We’re packed this weekend. Orthodontic convention.”
“You’re kidding me,” I blink.
The woman shakes her head. “We never joke about oral hygiene.”
I slowly turn back to Daniel. “So what do we do?” I ask, trying not to blush. It shouldn’t be a big deal to split a room with him, given how much time we’ve spent together over the past couple of years, but for some reason, there’s a huge difference. Then, we were in college, safely connected to other people. Now he’s a single man, and I know just how good it feels in his arms.