Overlooked(1)(50)

“Let’s see if we can’t make it out of here without getting in trouble with airport security first,” Harper says, and I laugh again.

“I’ll flash my army creds and they’ll leave us alone. Nobody’s about to give too much trouble to a member of the military who’s finally out,” I tell her.

Harper rolls her eyes. “Oh! I meant to tell you before we get too involved in making up for lost time — I might have a job lead for you,” Harper says as we stop at the baggage carousel and wait for the luggage to start coming down.

Everything I own, except for what’s still at my parents’ place, is down to one big duffel bag. After being in the army for better than six years, I’m not exactly surprised by it, but Harper has been asking for weeks if I’m sure I don’t want her to go ahead and get things for me for the apartment.

It’s a risk, moving in together right away, and we both know it. But for the first few months, at least, assuming I don’t get a job right off the bat, I’m going to be spending almost as much time back at home with my parents as I am with Harper, especially since they don’t know about us yet.

“What kind of job?” Part of me is irritated, for a second, at the thought of getting a job through my girlfriend, instead of on my own. But after that flash reaction I realize how thoughtful it is that Harper’s been on the lookout for me, knowing one of my bigger hesitations about leaving the army was the fact that I didn’t know what I could do for work outside the military.

“It’s with my publishing company, but in the shipping department, not anything at all to do with me,” Harper says.

The first few bags from the plane start tumbling down the shoot and onto the conveyor belt, and I start looking for my duffel more intently.

“What would I be doing if I got the job?” I glance at Harper and back at the conveyor belt, and give her hand another quick squeeze.

Really, for the moment, all I care about is getting her alone as quickly as possible. All I can think about is the last video she sent me, the night before, starting out in nothing but a T-shirt I’d sent her and ending with nothing at all.

“It’s a management job, which I figure you would make sense for. But I mean, if you don’t want to do it, we can find you something else in the city.”

The plan, for right now at least, is that I’ll spend a week with Harper, getting a feel for us living together, and go to my parents’ place for at least a week, unless I have a job already on the line. Of course, if I get a job right away, that’s going to change things a bit. But we’ll handle that when we come to it.

“I’ll check it out, for sure,” I tell her, leaning in to kiss her on the lips quickly. I keep one eye open for my duffel and finally see it, and let go of Harper’s hand to go and grab it so we can get out of the busy airport already and back to her apartment. “How long will it take us to get to your place?”

“I think this justifies getting a cab, or maybe an Uber,” Harper says, once I’ve got her hand in mine once more.

“How long?” I give her a little look so she’ll know exactly how important the answer is to me, and Harper giggles.

“It’s still going to take us about twenty, maybe thirty minutes to get back to my place,” she says.

I groan. “Seriously? What the hell is wrong with this city?”

Harper snorts and shakes her head. “Once we’re in Brooklyn, there are like twenty places to eat that are within walking distance, and more than half of them deliver,” she says to me. “We’ll make a city boy out of you yet.”

“Well, then, lead the way,” I tell her.

We finally get out of the airport and into the line for taxis, and I watch Harper do her thing to hail a cab, thinking that for the first time I’m actually kind of glad she’s the leader, the one in charge at the moment, instead of me.

One of these days, I’m going to have to thank my parents for throwing such an involved anniversary party.

Harper gets one of the cabs to stop in front of us, and I take a deep breath of grungy city air, and follow her.





EPILOGUE





HARPER POLSEN



FIVE YEARS LATER



“Harper, you’re sure you don’t want to stop and get coffee?”

I rub at my eyes and shake my head in response to Zane’s question. We got on the road super early to avoid the worst traffic leaving the city, but I’d much rather get some ginger ale than a cup of coffee in my system at the moment.

“Let’s just get to the house as quickly as we can,” I tell Zane, settling myself in the passenger seat again.