Page 4 of Shy Girls Can’t Date Celebrities (Shy Girls Sweet Romances #6)

Did anyone expect me to sleep a wink? It was hard enough getting a few hours of sleep a night when there were only scraps of information about Wyatt’s accident online. But now, knowing I’ll see him today, my nerves kept me staring at the ceiling.

After we got the twins ready for their carpool, and Dad gave me a mixture of best wishes and lectures before leaving for his hour-long commute to work, I’m finally able to focus on myself.

With a good dose of product in my curls, a natural face of makeup, and wearing my best outfit, I take my carry-on bag downstairs.

Mom and I forced breakfast on everyone else, but we’re both too nauseous to keep anything down. Knowing we should eat something, we both scarf a protein bar on the drive to the municipal airport.

Mom grunts as she takes a bite. “I hate these bars. I wish you’d let me buy the ones we used to get.”

“ Mom ,” I complain. “You know I’m trying to go vegan. You said you’d support me with this.”

“I am, darling. It’s just, I preferred the taste of the other brand.”

“I guess you can get the other brand for yourself?”

“I’m not buying two different boxes. And are you really going vegan for yourself? Or is it just because you saw an interview where Wyatt said he was vegan?”

“I believe in it too, Mom. I’m just having trouble adjusting.”

Mom mutters under her breath, “Maybe because you need all the food groups to survive.”

“ Mom ,” I whine. “That’s not fair. You know I’m trying to get used to other alternatives.”

Mom lifts her fingers off the steering wheel in a mark of surrender.

“I’m sorry, Josie. I don’t mean to argue with you.

I’m just anxious. I wonder how much it costs to park at the airport,” Mom mutters to herself as she looks out at the road.

“And have they already organized your flight home? We agreed to three days at the maximum, but if we can have you back sooner, it’d be ideal.

But can they just fly back whenever they want?

How much notice do you have to give a local airport that you’ll be. ..”

“ Mom ,” I cut her off. “You’re doing it again.”

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Sorry, darling. You know I can’t help rambling when I’m nervous.”

“Well, it’s not exactly helping. I feel like every vein inside me is jittering.”

“I’ll stop. I promise.”

I side-eye her. “Do you think you can keep it together while I’m gone? You know the twins feed off your nervous energy.”

She chuckles, wiping her brow. “I’ll try to keep a handle on things for their sake.”

“Good, because I don’t want them hi-jacking phones and bombarding me with guilt-ridden text messages.”

We pull into the airport parking lot, taking a ticket at the boom gate.

Once we park, we make our way over to the departures lounge.

As we approach the area where security scans everybody’s luggage, a local hockey team streams in.

Their big, burly frames crowd the small space, and my throat constricts as I watch them suck all the air with nothing to spare.

I back away from our space in the cue, gulping for any morsel of oxygen I can grasp. Mom hurries after me, grabbing onto my arm and tugging me back.

“Josie,” she says firmly. “If you can’t handle this line, I’m not letting you on the plane.”

I shiver. “Wh-wh-what?”

She looks me dead in her eyes, worry glossing her gaze. “You’re about to walk into a world filled with Hollywood-types. If you can’t handle our local airport and a hockey team, you won’t survive.”

I sniff hard as my eyes itch with tears. “Don’t say that.”

“Look at me,” she says softly. “I can’t let you go if panic will take you over.”

I swallow hard and strain to say, “I need to see him.”

Mom nods. “I know. But you’re going alone. I’m scared for you.”

I look back at the broad-shouldered team passing through security. “If it’s just me and Wyatt, I’ll be okay.”

“Remember all the times you said you’d be okay because Wyatt was there,” Mom whispers. “You never stepped foot into any of those concerts.”

I sigh, heart falling to the pit of my stomach. “They’re just too crowded.”

“He’s still a celebrity,” Mom warns. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“Can’t we just wait until they all pass through?” I plead. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

I can tell by her expression that Mom doesn’t believe me, but she lets me line up behind the team and their coaches. We finally move through the line, after my luggage passes through the scanner, and a security guard waves a scanner wand over our bodies.

We’re given directions to the private boarding lounge, and on our way through, I grin in wonder at the sparkling white Learjet waiting on the tarmac. The Circle 8 logo is proudly displayed at the back end of the plane.

“Hello, Josie?”

I look to the side, and near the glass sliding doors is a familiar looking man wearing a sharp suit.

I place a hand on my chest. “Yes, that’s me.”

We move over to him and he holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Randall, Erika’s assistant.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand. “I remember you from the video call last night.”

Randall chuckles. “Yes, it’s been a long night.”

Mom shakes his hand, introducing herself, “Hi, I’m Rosa Bartlett. Did you fly in this morning?”

“Yes,” Randall replies. “With everything we’ve been organizing for Wyatt’s release from the Clearview Clinic, there hasn’t been much room for sleep. I had to work on the flight here, and there’s still more to do as we fly back.” He smiles at me. “Speaking of which, are you ready to go?”

Nervousness cramps my stomach and I shiver. “I guess.”

Mom rubs my back. “Please, be careful, darling. Oh, geez , I’m having regrets. I really don’t think you should go.”

My blood runs cold. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

She eyes Randall and then sniffs as she looks back at me. “Am I really letting you board a plane with a stranger? ”

“Mrs. Bartlett, I promise Josie will be safe.” Randall gestures at a broad man dressed in black on the tarmac. “We have the best security with us.”

Mom shudders. “Somehow, that doesn’t put me more at ease.”

I pull Mom into a hug. “I’ll be careful. I know how to look after myself.”

“I know, honey,” she whispers. “You already look after all of us. I just can’t imagine a night without you at home.”

“We’ll have her home sooner than you know,” Randall says, beckoning me over. “Now, we must be getting back to Cherry Beach.”

Mom sniffles, nodding as she lets me go. “Okay. Good luck, darling. Say hi to Wyatt for me.”

I let out a soft giggle as I swipe at a tear. “I will. Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

She clasps her hands near her face, smiling and nodding as her eyes well. “Love you too.”

With more adrenaline than I know what to do with, I follow Randall onto the tarmac. We’re waved through by ground staff, and a broad man wearing all-black keeps an eye on us as we take the steps onto the Learjet.

“Whoa.” I gasp at the interior. “Does Wyatt own this plane?”

“Nice, ain’t it,” Randall says with a wink. “And no, it’s not exactly Wyatt’s plane. It’s Circle 8’s plane. You’d probably know all the members of the crew. Like Portia, Simon McAlister, Theo Granger, and Maggie Silver.”

“Oh, yeah. I listen to all the albums and watch all the movies.”

“Nice. At Circle 8, we produce all the music and all the movies. It’s a nice little machine we have going here. Each Circle 8 member has their own fans and careers, but when they collaborate, it’s golden.”

I nod, hugging my middle. “Like Wyatt and Portia.”

Randall grins. “Exactly. Those two work magic together.”

The pilot exits the cockpit and wears a welcoming smile. “Good morning, Miss Bartlett. I’m Captain Frank Ford. I’m honored to take you on this journey.”

I jitter as we shake hands. “Uh, umm, thank you, sir.”

Captain Ford nods at us. “Take your seats, folks. We’ll be off in a jiffy.”

We move into the body of the plane and it’s a lot to take in.

Along the aisle, there’s first a group of four chairs, two on either side of the aisle and facing each other.

They’re overstuffed and leather, like the most ridiculously comfortable armchairs.

On each headrest, the Circle 8 logo is embossed.

“Good morning, Randall,” a woman in a blue blouse, tight-fitting pencil skirt, and matching vest, says. She wears a navy blue scarf around her neck, and her hair is secured in a bun. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was a flight attendant.

She welcomes me further into the plane. “Welcome, Miss Bartlett. My name is Claire and I’m here to serve you during your flight.”

I choke on an intake of air, coughing. “You are a flight attendant?”

Claire chuckles. “You could call me that. I’m part of the Circle 8 staff, and I specialize in flight safety and service.”

I follow behind her and don’t know where I should look first. What I can only call a plush, three-seater couch is along one side of the plane.

On the other side are two swivel armchairs and a beautiful mahogany desk.

There’s an incredible lighting design throughout the plane, along with more mahogany accents.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Claire says, gesturing to the three-seater.

Beyond our seating area is a wall with two walkways either side.

“Behind here are the bathrooms as well as the refreshments area. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, soda, juice, water? Or any snacks? Pretzels, chocolate, jelly beans? Anything you want.”

I sit forward. “Did you say jelly beans?”

Claire beams. “Mr. Hayes insists we keep them aboard. ”

I nod. “I remember him always eating them.”

“May I bring them to you?” Claire asks.

I sit back with a boost of happiness. “Yes, thank you.”

“And a beverage?”

I shrug. “Orange juice?”

“Certainly. Now, please ensure your seatbelts are strapped tight. The captain is getting ready for take-off.”