Holiday Terminal, page 2
This is shaping up to be a Merry Christmas.
Chapter 2
PENELOPE
“Momma, I'm hungry.”
Well, crap.
I glance around the tiny building they called a terminal and at the meager options available. A few vending machines with the usual snack items that are probably old and stale on the left wall near the bathrooms. This place can’t get much traffic, and the people who do use it are probably local and aren’t sitting around, munching on Fritos and granola bars after they land.
According to the pilot, this entire place was supposed to be shut down for the next two days. They hadn't planned on having any passengers or anyone needing any assistance.
The storm ruined everything.
“Let me see what I can find for you, buddy.” I rub Max’s back.
He nods and climbs up into Mom's lap.
Thank God, she’s here.
If I had been alone with him, things would have ended up even more messed up. We barely made it to the airport as it was with her packing him up and getting him ready. Thank God, Aaron offered me his plane. There’s no way we would have made a scheduled commercial flight on time.
If I didn’t love my job so much, I would be pissed about the meeting being scheduled on Christmas Eve. But I’m not in any position to complain to Aaron. He’s the boss. He’s the one who produces incredible music for multi-million-dollar recording artists. I’m just the lowly assistant, trying to claw my way up the ladder to become a producer myself one day.
And it will happen, or so Aaron promises.
All I need to do is keep busting my ass, and agreeing to things like meetings on Christmas Eve, to show how dedicated I am to learning the ropes and becoming as incredible as he is. Moving to Nashville with Max was a massive risk. Leaving behind Mom and Dad, my only support system, was gut-wrenching, but in order to establish a real career for myself, to build a real life for Max and me, I needed to take the leap.
And now that I’ve been away from Cape Harmony for almost a year, and away from Mom and Dad, my entire view on them has changed. As much as I might argue and disagree with Mom, she’s a godsend.
I’m so glad I asked her to come help with Max this past week while he’s on Christmas break. Handling all this alone would have been impossible. “Do you want anything, Mom?”
She shakes her head and offers a soft smile. “No, I'm okay. Wait, actually, if they have anything that resembles coffee, get me a cup.”
I chuckle and shove my feet back into my four-inch stilettos. Definitely not the right shoes to be traveling in. “I'll see what I can find, but I'm not holding out much hope they have a Starbucks around the corner.”
She laughs and leans over to help Max with the videogame he's playing on his tablet. “I’ll call your father and let him know what’s going on.”
“Good idea.” I grab my purse from the empty chair next to me and make my way over to the vending machines. Eating processed foods out of bags is not how I anticipated spending Christmas Eve. At Mom and Dad's house, snuggled by the fire with an Irish coffee sounds a hell of a lot better than the swill that probably comes out of this vending machine into the Styrofoam cup.
I glance at my watch. It's only six o'clock. Maybe there's still time to get out of here tonight if the storm lets up. I scan the options in the machine, or should I say, the slim pickings. It looks like they haven't replenished this in a long time.
We’ll take what we can get…otherwise, we starve.
I dig out a few singles from my wallet and insert them into the machine.
Hmmm. What are the least disgusting items?
A bag of pretzels, a granola bar, and some chocolate chip cookies. Not exactly the home-cooked holiday meal we would be having with Dad, but at least it'll tide us over, until we can get to Cape Harmony.
The ancient machine spits out my change, and my chosen items fall from their respective slots. I drop the coins into the next machine for coffee. A crappy Styrofoam cup drops down, and a brownish sludge that’s supposedly coffee fills the cup. I tuck the snacks into my purse and grab the cup of coffee.
An old speaker mounted above me on the wall crackles.
They have a speaker system? Seems a little high-tech for this place.
I chuckle to myself as I turn toward the terminal.
The speaker blares. “Artemis Warren. Please head over to the office.”
I freeze.
No.
The cup slips from my hand. The Styrofoam hits the ground, and scalding-hot liquid splashes against my bare legs.
I hardly feel the burn.
It can't be. Not here.
My gaze immediately slips over to Max and Mom.
Oh, my God. Did she hear the name?
Mom giggles at something Max says, and he smiles up at her. They must be playing some sort of game with the volume turned up. I scan the rest of the terminal.
Maybe I misheard. It couldn’t be him.
Fate wouldn’t toy with me like that.
Right?
A familiar set of broad shoulders appears at the end of the hallway that leads out to the tarmac. The man—one I know all too well, or at least, I thought I did, a very long time ago—swaggers toward the terminal in a crisp white dress shirt, suit coat, and dress slacks with a briefcase in his hand.
My breath catches in my chest. My heart thuds so loudly, it echoes in my ears.
No. No. No.
I stumble backward, desperately searching the air for something to grab onto. The room spins, and my legs wobble in my heels. My hand finds the back of a chair. I curl my fingers around it, using the sturdy plastic to keep myself upright, and suck in two deep breaths.
My lungs won’t fill. My chest tightens.
The closer he strolls toward the main terminal, the more visible his familiar features become. The strong jaw. The perfect lips that kissed me senseless all those months. The strong arms that wrapped around me and held me those warm summer nights. The blue eyes I used to drown in while we stood on the beach with the waves lapping at our feet. Even from here, they glint with the same mischievousness and passion they did all those years ago.
He glances down at his phone as he turns and disappears into the airport office on the other side of the terminal.
Life must be playing some kind of sick joke to have Artemis Warren here, in this place, with me.
What am I going to do?
ARTEMIS
“Well, shit.”
I fire off the tenth email I’ve sent since I touched down, trying to let everybody who is important know I'm probably not going to make it to the party tonight. I’ve managed to keep my big announcement under wraps until now, but even knowing how much my absence is going to piss off Father and the rest of the family, I can’t make up for missing the opportunity to do it on such a massive stage.
My hand clenches my phone. I barely glance up as I make my way down the hallway toward the main terminal and the office.
Why would they page me?
Hopefully, it's to give me an update on the weather. A good one. One that means I might still make it before the end of the party tonight.
I round the corner and step into the tiny room that serves as the heart of the airport terminal. The pilot and airport employee I spoke with earlier look up from where they stand behind an older gentleman, a computer in front of him.
“Did you need me?”
The pilot leans over to better see the screen. “Just trying to keep you informed. The National Weather Service just updated the forecast, and looking at this radar, unfortunately, we're not getting out of here tonight. They're saying at least another six inches over the next several hours.”
Of course.
I scrub my hand over my face. Even though I knew it was unlikely, I've been holding out a little bit of hope that perhaps it isn’t as bad as it appears. But it looks like it's just a pipe dream. “Thanks for the update. I need to make some calls and send some more emails to let people know I'm not going to be back.”
The other man nods. “Keep in mind, even when the snow ends, it's gonna take a while for us to get the runway cleared enough for you to take off.”
Shit. Hadn't even thought of that.
“How long will that take?”
He shrugs. “Depends.” His gaze drifts out the window at the blowing whiteout engulfing the runway. “Usually, just a few hours.”
Hours?
I nod and grit my teeth. These small-town airports are totally inept at dealing with shit like this, compared to major airports. “All right. Keep me updated if anything changes, please.”
“I will.” He flashes a smile at me. “You're not the only one stranded here, and I'm sure everybody's keeping an eye on things. I feel bad for anyone else here on Christmas Eve.”
While all I'm missing is a pretentious party with snooty Manhattanites and a few relatives who only want one thing from me, other people may be missing some needed and wanted time with their families.
I huff out of the office, and the tinkling laughter of a child draws my attention to a small boy and a woman seated facing away from me on the far side of the one-room terminal. He can't be more than five or six, though, at least from here, the woman looks a little old to have a child that young.
My heart aches for him. He's going to be spending Christmas Eve here instead of wherever they were headed when the storm hit.
I run a hand through my hair and head for the row of chairs on the opposite end of the terminal from the boy. There's no need for them to overhear the angry phone calls I have to make. Their Christmas is already bad enough.
Before I dive head-first into all the shitty calls, I dial the one person who may have even a modicum of sympathy for me.
He picks up after one ring. “What have you done now, you screw up?”
I can't help but laugh. Mostly because he doesn't know how accurate that question is.
“Is that any way to greet your big brother, especially on Christmas Eve?”
Archimedes, the middle Warren child, and the closest thing I have to a best friend, chuckles. While he understands the years of pressure I've been under since taking on a bigger role in the company, he doesn't pity me. In fact, he'd be happy to man the helm. The way he sees it, being born the second son in the Warren family, might as well mean being born into obscurity.
He sighs deeply, and I can picture him reclining in his leather chair with his feet propped up on his desk. “Dad is losing his shit over here. Says you got yourself stuck in some shithole little town in Tennessee. Is it true? You won't make it tonight?”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I look down at my feet. The once perfectly shiny black leather has lost a bit of its luster—scuffed and water-spotted from the ordeal they’ve already endured.
Like me.
“Yeah, seems it's only getting worse from here. I'll be stuck in this airport for a while.”
“Well, that sucks for you. I, however, intend to get some drinks in me and schmooze with every available social climber at the party. Guess I should say thanks for fucking up. My dance card just got fuller.”
I bark out a laugh. No doubt baby bro will be out for every number he can get. He's never been serious about anyone in his life and has no plans to settle down anytime in the near future. He’d much rather spend his time jumping from bed to bed of the biggest players in town, hoping one will help him find a way out of my shadow.
“Well, it's only because they'll settle for the second-best Warren son.”
Archie’s laugh flows through the line, easing just a bit of the tension this day has unleashed. “Touché, big bro, but still, the old man is going to lose his shit over this. You should have left earlier. You know how he is. God forbid you fuck up Father’s plans.”
His aren't the only fucked-up plans.
“I know, but it is what it is, Arch. This is out of my hands.”
And it was Father’s fault I was flying and got caught in the storm in the first place. The meeting in Atlanta was his idea. Another hostile takeover of a small, family-owned company that was just looking for a little financial backing. Instead, they lost what had been run for the last hundred years by earlier generations to Father’s greed.
“I can’t believe you’re going to leave me alone with the vultures…and Athena. You know they’re making her fly home from Berkeley for this?”
Ugh.
“I know. There’s no way they’ll miss an opportunity to show her off and brag, even if it means she’ll miss work at her internship.”
“So true. And she’ll be in a shit mood all night because of it. You know they’ll try to pawn her off on me without you there.”
He’s right. They will. Because no one else in the family but us can reel her in when she gets difficult.
“You’ll enjoy it.”
He barks out a laugh. “You asshole. All right, Art, I have to go. As much as I'd love to continue giving you hell, the Town Car will be here to take me to the party in a few minutes. Good luck with the fallout, buttercup.”
I laugh. “You're such a shit, Archie. Be safe and Merry Christmas.”
“I do what I can. And Art, Merry fucking Christmas to you, too.”
He hangs up, and I recline in the seat, running my hand through my still-damp hair. I dread making these calls. But I still have more than half the damn family to get in touch with. Even though Father has undoubtedly told everyone, it’s expected and the “proper” thing to do to make the calls personally and apologize for my absence.
Just one of the many reasons I was looking forward to what I was going to do tonight.
My plans are well and truly fucked.
Now, what the hell am I going to do?
Chapter 3
PENELOPE
I dry heave over the toilet in the tiny airport bathroom for the eighth time.
This can't be happening. What the hell is Artemis Warren doing here?
The one man who could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for is at this shithole airport with me. And Max…
What did I ever do to Karma to piss her off so badly? Did he see me before I managed to duck into the bathroom? Did he see Mom and Max?
My stomach turns again, and I gag, but there’s nothing left to come up.
I have absolutely nothing left. I crash onto my ass on the cool, cracked tile floor and drop my head back against the wall. It’s almost exactly the same position I found myself that morning…the morning I found out I was pregnant.
The irony of the situation is not lost on me, and I let out a mirthless, slightly psychotic-sounding laugh that echoes in the bathroom. It comes across as unhinged, even to my own ears.
So, so bad. This is so, so, so bad.
It’s a disaster of epic proportions. The Hindenburg and Pearl Harbor all rolled into one.
I need to get Mom and Max and get out of here. Maybe we can rent a car and drive home. It can’t be more than six or seven hours to Cape Harmony. Mom and I can switch off driving and go straight through. We could spend more of Christmas Day with Dad. Or maybe there's a hotel nearby where we can hide out until the storm passes and Artemis is gone.
Neither plan is perfect, but either one will serve my purposes. All that’s important is getting away from Artemis before he figures it out and ruins everything.
I suck in a deep breath and rise on shaky feet. My hand quivers as I grab my purse from the hook in the bathroom stall, dig for a mint, pop it into my mouth, and push out the swinging door.
Tiny clicks of my heels on the tiles break the eerie silence of the small space, but it doesn’t remove the ominous weight sitting on my shoulders.
Splashing cold water onto my face doesn't help much, either. The red rings around my eyes, splotchy skin, and quivering lips all still remain. I’m a mess. And it shows. Anyone who sees me will know I’m having a total meltdown.
And here I thought I had become a strong, independent woman. One capable of being a single mom who handles climbing the ladder to a high-powered career.
How could I have been so wrong about myself?
One brief glimpse of that man, and I fall apart like a hormonal teenager.
I run a shaky hand through my hair and try to straighten it before I prepare to step out and potentially face my worst nightmare wrapped in a five-thousand-dollar custom suit.
And damn, does he look good in it.
He always looked good in everything. But back then, it was mostly board shorts and nothing else on the beach. The teenage boy ready to head off to college has turned into a powerful man, every bit as I pictured he would while under the watchful eye of the Warren clan.
They were never going to let him be anything other than a clone of his father and grandfather. Another Warren lawyer and politician. Another Warren to take the helm of Warren Enterprises Worldwide. Another Warren to ensure their name and power never disappears.
He was full of hope and empty promises back then. A boy who said he could break away from the pull of that kind of power and responsibility. But, when it came down to it, he fell right in line.
Like I knew he would.
I swipe away the tears trickling down my cheeks and suck in a deep breath.
Calm, Pen. Don’t scare Max.
All I need is a few minutes to gather myself and formulate a plan. And Kristy can help. After twenty years of friendship, she knows me better than anyone and will understand my panic. Her calm, rational approach to things is exactly what I need right now.
Because God knows, I am neither calm nor acting rational. I can’t with Artemis in my orbit.
I fish my phone out of my purse and tap the screen until I find her number.
Please answer.
“Hey, Pen. You make it to your parents’ already?”
Crap, I never let her know we had to land.
“We actually got caught in a storm and are stranded in the middle of nowhere. Our plane has been grounded.” I lean back against the sink, and my legs tremble like a newborn baby deer. At this point, I don't trust them to support me.
