Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,6

in my stomach grew tighter and tighter. I didn’t want to miss my flight. I hadn’t purchased cancellation insurance and I wouldn’t be able to afford a new ticket.

“Where the hell are you guys?” I grumbled.

Another ten minutes passed and I bid farewell to the apartment that had been my home for two years. I locked up and struggled down the stairs of the older building with my three suitcases and duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Every piece of clothing I owned was packed away in those bags. I’d left my furniture behind so the girls could use my old bedroom as a guest room for now. Once I had my shit together in New York, I’d pay a moving service to go back into the apartment, collect my things, and drive them to the Big Apple.

There was no telling how long that would take.

I’d given myself a year. If I couldn’t make it in a year, then I didn’t have any right to dream so big and live in a place like New York. I’d come back to Waynesville and settle down with a mechanic or a farmer’s son or some shit. At least I wouldn’t ever wonder what might have been.

At least I’d have done the damn thing. Failure or not.

I nearly lost the wheel off the bottom of my medium-sized suitcase as it bounded down the steps behind me. By the time I reached the first floor, I was huffing and puffing, sweaty, and in an even fouler mood than I’d been when I was upstairs. I dragged the bags out the front door, which I propped open with one hip, and when I spilled out onto the sidewalk, a car horn beeped at me.

I looked up through a curtain of my red hair that had fallen loose of its bun and spied Riley’s red Volkswagen Jetta pulling up to the curb. She rolled down her window and waved for me to put my bags in the trunk.

Madison got out and helped and complained about how heavy my shit was. We managed to get it crammed in the trunk, and once we were back in the car, Riley pulled back out into traffic and headed for the airport.

“Sorry we were late, babe,” Riley said as she glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Our manager was in a fucking mood and we had to fold tables before our shift ended.”

I pretended I wasn’t annoyed and rubbed my sweaty palms on my sweatpants.

Madison twisted around in the passenger seat and looked at my outfit. “Is that what you’re wearing on the plane?”

“Yes.”

Her nose scrunched up like it did whenever she drank beer and pretended to like the taste in front of cute boys. “Oh. You know sometimes they’ll bump people up to first class if they have open seats. That’s why I always dress nice. You never know who you might end up sitting next to.”

“With my luck, I’ll end up between a crying baby and someone with bad body odor,” I said.

Madison snickered. “Dressed like that? You just might.”

I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. Forgive me for not wanting to wear leather leggings and a bodysuit on an airplane, Madison. Fuck.

Comfort was my middle name. Fuck heels, heavy earrings, handbags with no straps, bras with underwire, and anything that caused me any level of discomfort or irritability. Life was too short for that shit and I didn’t have the patience to endure it all for the name of beauty.

Dying my hair red had been the boldest statement I’d made about myself in years. Up until now, I liked to blend in.

I doubted blending in would get me anywhere in the big city, though. It was time for big changes, leaps, strides, purposeful actions.

Change.

I told myself over and over on the drive that I was ready and capable while my friends chatted and told me about their day.

When we reached the airport, my nerves were gone and I had clarity. I took my bags out of the trunk and hugged my friends. I thanked them for driving me and promised to call when I landed.

“You have everything?” Riley asked.

I nodded. “Yep. Everything except for you guys.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “What are we going to do without you, babe?”

“Yeah.” Madison nodded. “Who’s going to take care of us?”

“You’ll take care of each other,” I said. “This is for the best. And just think, maybe sometime soon you’ll be flying out to come stay at my