Mai Tai'd Up(80)

I looked at my TSA agent for courage, and she nodded.

I took a deep breath and looked into those gorgeous blue eyes. “I don’t want to be your rebound. I just want to be yours. And I’m so, so sorry for not telling you sooner about the way that I left Charles. I should have and it was stupid of me not to. I lied to you and I hate that I hurt you, when that’s the last thing you deserve. Because you—” My breath caught, and my throat got tight. “You’re it for me.” Then I crunched my eyes closed, because I couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. Because if he didn’t want me to be his . . .

“Chloe,” he said, and I opened one eye.

“I . . .” I held my breath. “Can’t.”

I opened the other eye, not entirely sure what he’d just said.

“I just can’t do this.” He shook his head. “I appreciate you coming down here, really I do. But I just can’t have another woman lying to me again. I’m sorry.”

And as they called his flight, final boarding, he gave me a thin sorry smile, and ran for his plane.

“But, I came to the airport,” I said, mostly to myself.

“What did you lie to him about?” Monica asked.

“Just one thing, but it was a big thing.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself. I can’t believe he was leaving. I thought for sure if I poured my heart out, he’d . . . he’d . . .

“You thought if you came down here and spilled your guts and apologized, he’d sweep you off your feet and kiss you stupid?”

“Something like that,” I admitted, not seeing even a flash of red hair in the crowd. He was well and truly gone.

“You’ve been watching too many romantic comedies,” Monica said. “Come back in twelve weeks. Maybe he’ll have cooled down by then.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning to leave.

“And Chloe Patterson?” she called, and I looked over my shoulder. “You ever try something like this again, and I’m going to redline you. You don’t want that, believe me.”

I nodded, my head feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, and headed back toward the ticketing area. Where Dr. Campbell senior was waiting for me.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” he offered.

“You saw that?” I asked.

“Chloe, it’s a small regional airport. Everyone saw it.”

“Great,” I croaked, shaking my head. What a mess.

“Just give it some time,” he said kindly. “Things like this have a way of working out.” He started walking me out of the terminal. “By the way, I got a call about those dogs from the other night. Looks like we’ll be able to place them all with you by the middle of next week . . .”

I let him lead me out to the parking lot, numb.


“I can’t believe someone would bring a pit bull to a dog park. That’s just asking for trouble,” the woman said, sounding outraged.

“I know, how irresponsible! I’m amazed that dog hasn’t tried to maul any of the other dogs. I’ve been keeping my Pekingese close to me, in case anything happens.”

“That’s a good idea. Those dogs are so vicious, I’m just waiting for that one to—”

“Ladies?” I said. “The dog you’re talking about is my dog, and yes, he’s a pit bull. If you can believe it, his last owner left him chained outside to a tree, with no food and hardly any water, for days at a time. Yet unbelievably, he still loves humans, no matter how horrendously they’ve treated him. And Sammy Davis Jr.—that’s his name, by the way—has never once even nipped at another dog, even when they’re climbing all over him like that Chihuahua’s doing right now.”

The two ladies were clad head to toe in Lululemon, their hair in perfect ponytails, makeup flawless, nails shiny, not an ounce of chocolate pudding anywhere on their thighs or tummies.

I wanted to tell them to shut their stupid faces. I wanted to tell them that there’s no such thing a bad dog, only bad owners. I wanted to tell them to stop talking about things they knew nothing about.

What I said was, “I’d love for you to meet him; he’s the sweetest guy. Would that be okay? I’ll hold the leash; no pressure.”

Because that was how you changed a heart and a mind. Individual experiences. Common sense. Common ground. And that big pageant smile never failed to do the trick.

They looked at each other, then looked at me unenthusiastically. “Um, sure. But he’s not going to, like, rip my little Bobo to shreds, is he?” one of them asked, arching a perfectly manicured brow.

“No, ma’am, I can promise you your Bobo will be just fine.”