Page 2

I take a few minutes to get comfortable and I fish a bottle of water out of my oversized purse.

Normally I’d be doing a little more people watching, but I’m kind of in a reflective and maybe even somber mood.

Matt was dead and it felt weird. After a contentious breakup at nineteen, we had actually become friends.

We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in several years, but we had the same friends, and his name always seemed to come up whenever I asked any of my friends what was new.

It was typically, “You won’t believe who Matt’s dating,” or “Matt got arrested,” or the most common, “So Matt got caught sleeping with….”

Yeah, he wasn’t a great guy. He wasn’t even an okay guy.

Fine, he was the worst, but it still feels wrong that he’s gone. Thirty is too young. Ever since I got the news, all I could think of was how I wasn’t done yet—not with Matt, I was definitely done with him a long time ago. No, I wasn’t done with life.

Maybe that’s why I’m struggling so much with this eulogy.

And maybe my own current life and writer’s block.

You never know when your time is up, so do I want to spend that time doing something I don’t love? Living in places I’m not crazy about? Merely existing in a life that only makes fictional characters happy? Writing books I’m not passionate about? Dating guys who are just okay, but never the one?

Ugh. I’m a mess. Lord help my friends because I have a feeling I’m going to be a handful.

If I ever get to leave Denver.

I stare at a blank screen for far too long, and when I look up, I can see that it’s already past our scheduled boarding time.

I don’t panic yet because…well…okay, I mildly start to panic.

Vanessa is supposed to pick me up at the airport when I land in Raleigh, so I should probably start warning her now.

Liv: Hey! It’s me! My connection is delayed. I’ll keep you posted so you don’t end up circling the airport!

She replies almost immediately because that’s just who she is.

Van: I’m on the app, so I saw that. It doesn’t look like a long delay. Yay!

Van: Relax and I’ll see you soon!

Okay, that’s done. And while my phone is in my hand, I decide that the eulogy will have to wait because I’m too distracted.

Instead, I decide to scroll social media mindlessly before switching over and seeing what’s new in the news and even throw in a few Buzzfeed quizzes just for shits and giggles.

“Flight 2217 with service to Raleigh-Durham will begin boarding shortly.”

Silently, I say a prayer of thanks and begin getting myself organized.

I stand and stretch, hauling my giant purse over my shoulder.

I scan the area, already bracing for whoever might think about trying to take my seat.

Obviously, there’s no way I can really tell, but it doesn’t stop me from mildly glaring at everyone while rolling my carry-on behind me, inching my way toward where the line will be.

I’m already feeling crowded by others who are just as eager to finally get on board, but I do my best to look unfazed by all of it.

Within minutes, we’re all in motion and I don’t breathe freely until my carry-on is in the overhead bin, my purse is tucked under the seat in front of me, and I am in my seat with my seat belt fastened.

“Excuse me.”

Son of a bitch…

I’m ready to launch into a tirade, but when I look up, the guy looking back at me seems almost apologetic.

And handsome.

“Is this your suitcase up here? The navy blue one?” he asks quietly, deep, soulful brown eyes staring straight into my soul.

I nod because I’m almost mesmerized by this person.

“Would it be okay if I turned it on its side? I didn’t want to just assume it was okay to manhandle your luggage.” Now he gives me a boyish grin and I’m suddenly regretting my four a.m. comfortable clothes choices while I try to casually fix my hair.

“Um…yeah. Sure. That’s fine,” I say, hating how dry my mouth suddenly is—like my tongue is suddenly too large for my mouth.

“Thanks.” He stretches and I’m met with a very nice view. His sweater rises slightly and reveals a tantalizing glimpse of some rock-hard abs.

I’m suddenly flustered and don’t know what to do with myself. When he sits beside me and smiles, do I smile back? No. No, that would be the normal thing to do. Instead, like an idiot, I turn and busy myself with my earbuds and laptop, more determined than ever to write that damn eulogy.

I suck at small talk; I know this about myself. And I particularly suck at small talk with strangers I’m seated next to on planes. And handsome ones? Yeah, I don’t even want to get into it. So, rather than embarrassing myself, I opt to simply get busy.

At least, that’s the plan.

He smells freaking fantastic and it takes more self-control than it should not to lean in and inhale. I also can’t seem to stop sneaking glances at him.

No wedding ring.

He’s incredibly polite to anyone he makes eye contact with.

And when the flight attendant comes over to ask if we’d like anything to drink, he immediately turns to me so I can answer first.

Clearing my throat, I smile and opt to skip any caffeine and go straight for asking about the wine. It’s almost noon and I’ve been up for eight hours already, so…

“Can I get a glass of cabernet sauvignon, please?”

She smiles before turning to my seatmate. “And for you?”

“Coffee, please. Black with sugar. Thank you.”

When she walks away, he turns his head and grins. “It sounds like we’ve had very different mornings.”

Confused, I blurt out, “What?” And then I get what he’s saying and laugh softly.

“My alarm went off at three a.m. so I could catch a six-thirty flight out of Seattle. I’ve already had three cups of coffee, a chocolate cake pop, and a Coke.

I think my heart might explode if I have any more caffeine. ”

That statement doesn’t exactly make me sound great, but the words are out before I can stop them.

Nodding, he replies, “And I worked until three a.m., slept for three hours, and then had a three-hour drive to the airport. If I could get my coffee in IV form right now, I’d do it.”

“It can’t hurt to ask, right?” I tease and then humiliate myself by snort-laughing. Inwardly, I groan, and when the flight attendant returns with our drinks, I gladly take mine in both hands and take a long sip.

Mr. Handsome chuckles before leaning back and closing his eyes.

I take that as my cue to focus on the damn eulogy, even though any minute, the announcement will come that all large electronics will have to be stored for takeoff.

Still, I tap out a few thoughts and funny stories—like the time Matt organized a scavenger hunt for all our friends.

We stole lawn ornaments, construction cones, took crazy pictures, and…

He got arrested.

“Hmm…”

I scratch that story and remember the time we went into the city to see a Broadway show. I was so excited about it and Matt went to get us some refreshments and…

Didn’t return until midway through the show and was clearly high.

“Why is this so difficult?” I whisper.

The flight attendant announces that we are going to be delayed, and I immediately whip out my phone and text Vanessa again.

I sip my wine; I jot down random stories about Matt—and most of them end badly—and wonder if maybe all these delays are the universe’s way of telling me I shouldn’t be doing this.

Unfortunately, I’m on the plane, my luggage is on the plane, and my friends are expecting me, so… I’m going on this trip.

Thirty minutes later, I’m on my second glass of wine, and my third page of notes. They all suck, and I groan louder than I expected.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nearly jump out of my seat at the nearness of his voice and place a hand on my chest where my heart is threatening to jump out. “Um…sure.”

“What are you working on?”

“Excuse me?”

He’s asked nicely, but for some reason, it still feels a bit like an invasion of privacy.

“Something personal.” And yeah, there’s a hint of defensiveness there.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve been listening to you angrily type, then sigh and groan for the last twenty minutes. Maybe you need to just put that away for a little while and go back to it later. Or tomorrow.”

“I wish,” I murmur and that garners an interested look from him. “It’s a eulogy. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ve had a week to work on this and every time I try, I can’t…” I hang my head because it’s going to sound awful no matter how I say it.

He nods sympathetically. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must have cared about them deeply if the eulogy is this hard for you.”

Another snort is out before my hand flies up to cover my mouth. I feel my eyes go wide as he stares back at me with a hint of amusement. There’s no way I can just not say anything, and maybe if I just get it off my chest, he’ll stop talking to me and I’ll stop embarrassing myself.

“I guess I should clarify,” I begin before taking another sip of my wine. “The deceased is an ex-boyfriend. The only reason I’m doing the eulogy is because his mother—who is like a saint—asked me.”

“Wow. That’s very nice of you to do it, and I’m sure she appreciates it.”

“I really wanted to say no. It’s awkward as hell and no matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with even one good story about him.” Groaning, my head falls back against the seat.

“Ah, so he was an ex for a reason.”

I gasp and turn to look at him because…that was exactly how I thought of Matt. What were the odds that someone would say those words back to me? And a stranger, no less!

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

I blink several times as I try to make my mouth work. “Um…no. No. You just…you just phrased that perfectly. Thank you.”

His boyish grin is utterly charming, and when he leans in a bit, I can’t help but inhale his delicious cologne. “Glad I can help.”

Help? What? Oh, right…his words.