“Yeah, hi, my name is Dru Connolly. I have tickets for a flight leaving from Seattle-Tacoma in about twenty minutes, but I—”
“Flight number?” she interrupted. I read the flight number off to her, and I heard the sound of fingers on a keyboard, then she spoke again. “Yeah, I show that you’re already checked in and on board.”
“But I’m not, which is why I’m calling—”
“You’ll have to ask the gate attendant. All I have is what my computer tells me.” She rattled off a phone number and then promptly clicked off.
Nice. Customer service at its finest.
I dialed the number I’d been given, and after a few rings an exuberant male voice answered. “Delta Airlines, gate C20, this Kevin, how can I help you?”
“Has flight DL 743 left yet?”
“It’s fully boarded, but it hasn’t left yet, no. What can do I for you, ma’am?”
I struggled to find an explanation. “I have a ticket for that flight, but another Delta rep tells me someone’s taken my seat. I’m wondering if you could help me figure this out.”
“What’s your seat number?”
“Three-C.”
A few seconds of tapping, and then he hummed. “Oh, hmm. Interesting. What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Dru Connolly.”
“Ah, yes. Well, it seems the ticket was changed early this morning. The ticket holder is now one…Tawny Howard.”
“Fuck!” I shouted, then immediately quieted. “Sorry, Kevin. I just—thanks. That’s all I needed.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Unless you can make my ex-fiancé less of a cheating dickbag, then no, probably not. But thanks anyway.”
“Men are pigs,” he said, clearly commiserating.
“That they are.” I sighed. “Well, thanks for checking.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, not so far.” I hung up before subjecting the poor gate attendant to any more self-pitying awkwardness.
The bastard! He was taking HER on MY honeymoon? Motherfucker!
I wanted to throw my phone into the ocean, but that wouldn’t actually help anything, so I didn’t.
Instead, I cried.
Because apparently that was just what I did these days.
But then, being cheated on and then rejected within forty-eight hours will do that to you, I guess.
I didn’t hear the footsteps, didn’t feel his approach, because I was bawling my eyes out.
He was just there, wrapping his arms around me, enveloping me with his heat, his strength, and I was so upset I didn’t even question it at first.
Then it hit me.
And I shoved him away from me as hard as I could. “NO! Keep your damn hands off me, Sebastian!”
He recovered his balance and came back to stand in front of me, reaching for me but not quite touching me. “Dru, listen—”
“No, you bastard. You had your chance. It doesn’t work that way. Not with me, not after everything I’ve been though. Hell, everything I’m still going through.”
He was soaked, because even though the rain had slacked off, it was still coming down hard enough to soak you to the bone within a few minutes. And I had his raincoat.
Do NOT feel bad for him, I ordered myself. He was wet, not injured. He’d dry.
But he did have a shadow on his jaw, as if somebody had slugged him hard enough to bruise even his craggy jaw. And he did look suitably upset. He should, though, the asshole. He deserved it.
“Dru, please. Just listen to me for like ten fuckin’ seconds.”
“Why should I?” I demanded.
He shifted from foot to foot, struggling for an answer, and he kept looking at me as if I’d take pity on him and explain his actions for him. Not likely, buddy.
“Look, this shit isn’t easy for me, okay? I’m tryin’ here.”
I couldn’t help a laugh. “What isn’t easy, Sebastian? Talking to a woman? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice. Figure it out.”
He growled, because that seemed to be the largest part of his vocabulary. “Yeah, I’ve talked to plenty. But this is different.”
I kept my expression blank, even though hope was starting to germinate inside me. “Why?”
“Because—” He sighed, scrubbed his hands through his hair, flinging droplets of rain everywhere and making him look even sexier than he already did, what with the rain plastering his white T-shirt to his muscular body, highlighting his bulk and his ink and his everything being fucking stupid sexy…
No. NOPE. Do not go there, Dru. He’s a troll. He’s ugly. He’s stupid. He’s a man, and men are pigs.