One Hot Summer - Page 181

* * *

“It’s easy to pack because I don’t have an excessive amount of clothes. I did laundry the other day, so everything was already in my laundry bin. Easy.”

“What about your incidental stuff? Soap, shampoo?”

“I’m buying it all there. It’s easier than lugging it and having to worry about it blowing up in my bag.”

“What if there isn’t a store nearby?” Macy continues.

“I’m sure there is somewhere to get soap. Hotel rooms usually come with soap.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Macy sighs as we walk down the taupe carpeted hallway of our apartment building.

“Should we call an Uber?” I offer.

“Alexa, we scheduled a car pickup two weeks ago to make sure we get to the airport—”

“Exactly two hours early?” I finish her sentence.

“We’re flying internationally, so yes, we need the full two hours.”

“You realize we will end up sitting at our gate for at least an hour, right?” I follow.

Two Hours Later

“Oh my God. Oh. My. God. We’re going to miss our flight!” Grace is pacing in the three feet of allotted space within the security line, glaring at her watch as if she can summon the time to stop moving.

“Folks, I’d like to apologize for the hold-up, but we appreciate your patience. We’re having a medical issue up here and need to keep the space cleared until we can resolve the situation at hand. Thank you again for your continued patience.” TSA’s announcement will surely add a layer of fun to our travels this morning.

* * *

“We’re going to miss our flight,” Grace shouts, slapping her hands down against her thighs. “Perfect. My bachelorette weekend is officially ruined.”

* * *

Between the time the message was announced and now, Macy has retrieved her phone and is making a call, holding up one finger to the Grace and me as if we’re children nagging our mother on the phone. “I see. Thank you so much,” she speaks into the phone.

Macy never loses her calm. Her appearance might say so, as well. Her dark hair is pulled up into a sleek ponytail and though she’s sporting the appearance of cutting loose, she’s wearing a sleeveless white button down and tailored black shorts that fit just right. Of course, she wouldn’t be caught dead without her favorite black Tory Burch sandals, pearl earrings, and a matching necklace. The three of us look like a contradiction, but we have been friends since Freshman year of high school. We all stayed stateside for college, attending Northeaster, and all snagged jobs within a year after graduation. We have been living together for eight years, and Grace is the first one to get hitched. We thought Macy would be the first with her tight-nit twenty-year plan, but she’s so particular about everything that no guy has been a good—err—perfect mat

ch for her.

I’m just a serial dater and have little patience for most types of men, so I’ve always claimed a last place for the marriage card, and I’m fine with that.

A TSA agent walks around the line of people looped around metal barriers and ropes. Macy smiles at him as if she knows him. “Barron,” she croons. “It’s been so long!”

Macy knows this guy? He’s at least fifty by the looks of his white peppered receding hair line, added gut, and arched shoulders. He’s a big guy, at least six-foot-five. In any case, he’s not really someone I want to mess with right now.

“You know him?” I whisper in her ear.

“Barron, this Grace and Macy, my two very best friends. We’re heading off to Mexico to celebrate Grace’s bachelorette weekend,” Macy says, wiggling her arms out to the side as if she’s doing some Spanish dance I’m not familiar with.

“Ladies, could you please step out of line for me?” Barron asserts. Oh shit. Macy crossed a line and we’re going to jail now. That might be a fun way to celebrate Grace this weekend. “Follow me.” I still don’t want to mess with this guy.

With reluctance, the three of us follow Barron around the side of the roped off area, finding ourselves in a secluded security area. “Um, what’s going on behind those curtains?” I whisper into Grace’s ear. I’m not expecting an answer since she still hasn’t told me how she knows Barron, but I don’t like the looks of this private area.

“You ladies can place your bags on the belt and each one of you can step behind one of those curtains.”

Grace is biting on her freshly polished thumbnail. “You really know how to pull some strings, huh?” Grace asks Macy.

Tags: Heidi McLaughlin Romance
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