Side Trip(95)

Her head whips in the direction of his voice and her heart leaps into her throat. There he is, one queue down. His duffel and guitar wait at his feet. He holds his blue spiral-bound notebook in one hand, a pen in the other, and she immediately wonders: Is he writing the reminder about the date and time to meet in ten years? Chills skitter along her skin.

He stares at her, baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Something spontaneous!” She runs over to his line. “No deal!” she says, loud and firm, crossing her arms and wiping them to the side. “I don’t want to meet at Rob’s in ten years.”

His arms lower to his sides. “You don’t?” he asks, crestfallen.

“You said no more what-ifs,” she rushes to explain. “But that’s when we can’t change the past. What about the future? I’m tired of looking back on my life with regrets. I don’t want to rehash what I should have done. And I don’t want to regret that I didn’t take the chance to spend more time with you.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, frowning. He stands in line behind the retractable barrier strap. He’s barely moved, except for his pen. He slides the writing instrument into his back pocket. He flips closed the notebook.

Joy wishes he’d come closer. She wishes everyone in line didn’t suddenly stop their conversations or look up from their phones to watch them. But she pays them no regard, forcing her undivided attention on Dylan and this specific moment. She’s 100 percent in the present. She has no doubt it will become the newest memory marker in her mind.

She takes a deep breath. “What if I don’t move to New York? What if I don’t accept the position at Vintage Chic and instead find a job in LA? I can gain the experience I need there to launch Surfari Soaps & Salves.” She laughs, giddy with nerves when he looks at her peculiarly. “Surprise! I just came up with the name for my business. I want to start my own company, that’s what I want to do.” She thumps her chest with a flat palm. “Vintage Chic? I don’t even wear lipstick. What was I thinking?” She tosses up her arms and Dylan’s mouth quirks. The hurt fades in his expression, replaced by something new and bright. Hope and possibilities. It gives Joy the kick in the tush she needs for what she’s about to say next.

“What if—” She blows out a rough breath and schools her face. “What if—” She looks down at the engagement ring on her left hand. Big and beautiful and expensive. Perfect for a woman who’d appreciate what it means to the man who put it on her finger.

That isn’t her.

“What if I don’t marry Mark?”

She slides off the ring and tucks it into her pocket. She flexes her fingers and looks up at Dylan. His expression is intense. She can’t read it, but she knows he caught everything she said and did. His eyes slowly track up from her pocket to her face. She meets his gaze head-on. “What if—”

“You fly to London with me?” He steps over the barrier and jerks her into his arms. Joy gasps. He embraces her hard, the notebook slapping against her back. He kisses her just as hard, bringing his hand to her face. His fingers thread into her hair to hold her head to his and Joy couldn’t be more thrilled.

She kisses him to show him what she wants. Who she is. Not Judy. Not the person she thought her parents wanted her to be. Just Joy. And it’s the best kiss ever.

“Lady . . . Lady!”

Joy rips her mouth from Dylan’s and twists her head. Dylan releases his embrace.

A stout, red-faced airport security officer glares at her. Two more guards back him up.

He thrusts a finger toward the window. “That your Volkswagen out there?”

Joy slaps her cheeks and gasps. “Oh my God! I forgot about my car. The keys! I left the keys in the car.” She starts running for the door.

“Joy!”

She skids to a halt and turns around. Dylan watches her and his expression says it all. What happens next?

She smiles broadly. “Yes, Dylan. I’ll fly to London with you.”

He grins, a lightning-electric smile that shows off two rows of brilliantly white teeth. He grabs up his gear and jogs to catch up to her.

“What about your flight?” she asks, concerned he won’t get through security in time to board. The line is obscene.

“I’ll either get you onto my flight or we’ll book the next one, as long as we’re together.” He tilts his head and his brows bunch up, his expression wary.

“What?”

“Strangest thing happened before you found me. I was writing in my notebook and my future flashed by. Weirdest experience ever.”

Joy stops midstride. A sinking, eerie sensation churns in her stomach. “Same thing happened to me outside.”

“What do you think it means?”

She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t like what I saw.” He dramatically shivers.

“Me neither.”

They exchange what-the-heck-just-happened looks until the security officer clears his throat, reminding them to get a move on. Dylan shoulders his duffel and reaches for her hand. “I think I’m going to like this future better.”

“Same here,” she says with an exhale of relief. Hand in hand, they walk outside into the hot August afternoon. Her car idles at the curb. She smiles sheepishly at the perturbed officer keeping watch over her car and he steps aside when Dylan reaches the passenger door.