Finding Mr. Write (Business of Love #5) - Ali Parker Page 0,71

be too late? Had too much damage been done for them to come back together and make things work?

As the line inched closer to the check-in counter, I wished I had answers to those questions. In my books, I always did. I knew how it was all going to end. I’d manicured it to come to the conclusion I wanted. Briar was not one of my characters. I couldn’t control whether she would forgive me or not.

It didn’t matter.

I was done sitting around waiting for the perfect girl to come along. There was no such thing. Briar had made a mistake. And so had I. This was real life, not a book, and the sharp pain that came along with her mistake had been a painful reminder that I was very much alive.

Pain came with joy. When did I forget that? When did I forsake genuine human emotions and experiences? Why had I let my fear consume me to such an extent?

And why had I let the best thing that ever happened to me go at the first sign of trouble?

“Because you’re a fool,” I muttered to myself.

The man in line ahead of me gave me a curious look over his shoulder.

“Not you,” I said hurriedly. “Me.”

He shrugged, clearly not interested, and returned his attention to his phone screen.

Finally, it was my chance to go up to the counter. The airline employee, a tall, thin, mousy-haired woman with purple glasses and a matching scrunchie in her hair, smiled pleasantly at me. “Good morning, sir. May I please see your boarding pass and ID?”

“I don’t have one.”

She frowned.

“I’d like to buy a ticket,” I said. “Your first flight to North Carolina please. Whatever airport is closest to Waynesville.”

The woman, whose name tag read Heidi, pursed her lips and clicked away on her computer. “It’s not very often people show up to buy a ticket the old-fashioned way anymore. Bear with me a moment.”

“Take your time,” I said. In reality, I wanted to scream at her to hurry up.

I resisted the urge to drum my fingers on the counter.

“Ah yes, here we go,” Heidi said in a well-rehearsed customer-service voice. “The soonest available flight is a direct flight to Asheville, North Carolina. It leaves in an hour and fifteen minutes and is roughly twenty-five miles from Waynesville. Would you like to purchase a ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Your direct flight to Asheville at eleven twenty is two hundred and two dollars. How would you like to pay for that today, sir?”

I slid her my credit card and showed her my ID. Buying a ticket at the airport wasn’t as quick and seamless as it was online. In total, it took about eight minutes. Heidi was concerned that I didn’t need to purchase a return ticket and didn’t have any luggage with me, so I explained why I was flying to North Carolina in the first place.

At the end of my tale, I added, “So really there’s a good chance I’m going to fly right back here if she slams the door in my face and tells me she wants nothing to do with me. In that case, I’ll just buy another ticket there and fly back.”

Heidi beamed at me as she printed my ticket. “I’ve always hoped to be part of someone else’s love story one day. Here you are. Good luck, Mr. Parker. I highly doubt she’ll turn her back on you after you hopped on a plane and chased after her. You’re quite literally every woman’s dream come true.”

I clutched the ticket to my chest. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m also the reason she left in the first place.”

Heidi gave me a knowing smile. “Then I suggest you show up at her door with chocolates and flowers, Mr. Parker.”

I patted the counter gratefully. “You’re a lifesaver, Heidi. Thank you!”

I pushed off the counter as she called “You’re welcome” after me and made for the security check point. I made it through effortlessly and made my way to the gate, where I waited like a child waiting in line to sit on Santa’s lap.

The anticipation was killing me.

What if this went terribly wrong? What if Briar was furious with me for making her walk home the other night? What if she’d come to her senses and realized she wanted no part of my anonymous, drama ridden, fear-of-being-a-famous-author lifestyle?

What if she decided New York wasn’t for her and she preferred the charm of her small hometown?

I raked my fingers through my hair and collapsed into