No Romance Required(77)

Everything crashed in on her at once. Their breakup, finding Cory’s note under her bed, Cory’s grand gesture. That he was waiting for her at the airport, like a scene out of a movie. A screwy one, granted, considering all the obstacles they’d had to get to this point, but wasn’t that what made the best endings?

They even had a guy desperate to pee at the end of their flick, like any good theatergoer who couldn’t bear to get up before the closing credits. It was practically perfect.

Oh, God, what if she was about to get everything she’d ever wanted?

Her head swam and she reached out for something, anything, to steady her. She gripped her brother’s strong biceps, swaying forward until she could drop her forehead to his chest. Closer to his upper stomach actually, since he was so freakishly tall. “I’m going to faint.”

Without faltering, he picked her up in one arm and his bag in the other and somehow got both of them inside. As he limped back to shut the door, her face crumpled even more. Her poor brother. What was he going to do if he couldn’t play football anymore? “You can’t flip out right now,” he told her in his sternest big-brother voice. “You have a plane to catch.”

That did it. Forget fainting, she was sobbing.

She rushed forward and pressed her face against Bryan’s familiar-smelling team jersey. While she let out all her tears, he awkwardly patted her back and murmured soft, soothing things. The roar in her ears blocked out most of them.

When she finally got herself together, she glanced up at his reassuring—and confused as hell—face and blurted out the words she’d held in too long. She wasn’t going to let the fear of losing those she loved rule her for even a moment longer. “I have to tell you about Mom.”

…

She wasn’t coming.

Cory paced near gate C, his carry-on in one hand and a balloon in the other. A frigging balloon.

His stomach was so knotted he couldn’t even drink the swill they called coffee. He just paced, and watched the time, and clutched his balloon like a security blanket on a string.

If she didn’t come, that was it. He was giving up romance entirely. Obviously he wasn’t meant to plan grand gestures. She clearly didn’t feel the way he did for her, and she’d made her stand loud and proud. Bryan had delivered the card, and she’d decided to ignore his overture. Once he pulled the dagger out of his chest, perhaps he’d even learn to accept that.

Hell no, he would not accept it.

He tossed his bag over his shoulder. He was going to go to Vicky’s town house and make her understand that, yes, he was an ass, but he was the ass who lo—

“Boo.”

His heart and feet thudded to a halt. That whispered “boo” had come from right behind him. Halloween was still a month away. Ghosts shouldn’t be accosting him in airports yet.

That meant only one thing.

He pivoted to face Victoria, his sweaty grip faltering on his balloon. She tilted her head at his symbolic offering. “‘Get well’? Am I sick?”

No, she was not ill in any shape or form that he could tell. She’d pulled her sunny hair up in a high ponytail and wore a Mariners jersey with jeans and flats. Casual, traveling clothes. She still sparkled more brightly than the diamond that glinted in her nose.

Or the one in his pants pocket.

Rather than share his relief that she’d arrived—and that she didn’t seem to loathe the very sight of him—he thrust the balloon in her direction. “They didn’t have any others left. Besides, see the heart?”

Her eyes widened as she accepted the balloon and studied the heart on the side that didn’t say “Get well.”

“Oh. Yes. Lovely. Uh, thank you?”

Her genuine puzzlement made him grin. To hell with being cool. He dropped his bag and hauled her off her feet into his arms, planting a kiss on her mouth that turned her sputters into soft, eager moans in a minute flat.

Maybe thirty seconds.

“Missed you,” she mumbled between kisses.

“Missed you more.”

“I didn’t see your note, the one you left the morning after the spark party.” He would’ve laughed, had he had cooperating brain cells left. “That’s why I was so pissed. It was under my bed, and I just found it tonight. I thought you’d just bailed on me, that none of it was real—”

“It’s all real,” he breathed against her warm, glossed lips.

She nodded, eyes bright. “Can we not fight for a while?”

He cocked a brow. “How long’s a while?”

Her grin returned, though this time it was sly. She stepped away long enough to tie her balloon to the nearest chair. “Okay. Let’s renegotiate. We’ll argue only when we can make up immediately.”