Page 13 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

Silas

Where the hell is she? Patrick and I have been waiting in front of Jules’ house for the last thirty-five minutes and she still hasn’t come out of the front door.

I look over my driver’s shoulder at the clock on the dashboard. The flight crew is supposed to have wheels up in the next ten minutes. There’s no way we’re going to get to the airport and loaded onto the jet in that amount of time.

I study the stillness of her door, wondering if I should just go in there to retrieve her myself.

When we first pulled up, I felt the thrill of adrenaline from the idea of seeing her for the first time in a year.

Now, after waiting for what feels like forever, I’m left with a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.

She must be in there changing her mind at the last minute.

What else would be taking her this long?

“Sir?” Patrick asks, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. He senses my annoyance. “Would you like me to—?” He points toward the door.

“Yes, please go check on her again,” I answer, impatiently. “Just go ask if she needs any help getting — I don’t know — whatever it is that she might need help with. If I go up there she’ll never come out.”

Patrick exits the driver door and makes his way up to Juliet’s house while I watch from the back seat.

I could have just sent a car to deliver her to the airport separately, but I wanted to make sure she didn’t need anything on the way.

Plus, if I’m being totally honest, I wanted to be here to talk her out of bailing if she tried to ditch at the last minute.

Good thing, too, because it appears that’s exactly what’s happening.

I pick up the coffee I planted in her cup holder about forty minutes ago, gauging the temperature through its thick, cardboard sleeve. It feels cold now but there’s no time to stop for another. I’ll have Andy make her an espresso or whatever else she’d like once we get on board.

I look at my watch, then her door. I hate being late to anything, even if I’m the one paying everyone’s salaries to wait for me, or in this case, to wait for Jules.

Patrick rocks on his heels like he’s about to head back to the car just as Juliet flings her front door open.

She has three roller bags behind her, instead of the eight I had dropped off late last night.

They exchange a few words before she attempts to juggle three bag handles herself, fending Patrick off from taking them from her by holding up her palm.

I break into a smile as I watch her try to figure out how to get all three bags to the car at once without his help. Patrick stands nearby, hands clasped at his waist, side-eyeing her. I can tell she’s flustered and probably significantly sleep deprived, even from here.

I chuckle, resting my chin on my fist while I watch out the window.

There you are, Jules.

Stubborn as ever. Present as ever.

Beautiful as ever.

After a bit more talking, she gives up with a huff. Patrick grabs two of the bag handles before they briskly make their way toward the blacked-out Escalade idling in her driveway with me inside. She’s wearing dark sunglasses, though it’s not very light out yet, which, I realize, is not a good sign.

Patrick leaves her bags at the tail end of the SUV, then follows her to the opposite side to open her car door for her. Without looking over, she climbs into the captain’s chair next to mine and sits back against the thick leather seat.

“Thank you,” she mumbles to Patrick before he shuts the door and heads to the back.

It’s only two words, but it’s the first time I’ve heard her speak since I left her sobbing in her foyer last year.

The sound of her voice hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’ve thought about her quite a bit since I left her all alone to pick up the pieces of her life, but I knew that me staying away was what she wanted.

That and I knew we had this trip together at the end of it.

I exhale a year’s worth of waiting and settle back into my own captain’s chair, smiling to myself.

She’s here.

She’s packed.

And we’re headed to the airport.

A light, floral scent of shampoo and probably some perfume she spritzed on at some point wafts over to my side of the car.

Patrick loads her luggage into the trunk with a few thuds. The car dips beneath the weight each time another heavy bag lands in the trunk.

Meanwhile, we awkwardly hold our breath through the silence that follows. I keep my face forward, but side-eye her as much as I can without making it obvious that I’m watching. She sniffs and shifts her body away from me to look out the window, resting her elbow in the nook of the door.

“Fancy meeting you here,” I say deeply, trying to sound casual but it comes out as horribly stiff instead.

“Morning,” she replies, not bothering to face me.

Her blonde hair is piled high in a messy bun with wavy tendrils spilling out the sides. Like she was frazzled upon waking up this morning and it was the best she could do.

Exhaustion and annoyance roll off her, so thick that it might actually be contagious. She grabs one side of her tan sweater and pulls it tightly around her torso, shifting her whole body toward the window side of her seat. She can’t get far enough away from me.

“I had this made for you, but—” I hold the cold coffee cup out to her — “you might want a new one once we board. It’s probably cold by now.”

“Sorry I made you wait,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. But she takes the cup from me, careful not to let our fingers touch in the exchange.

“That’s not what I meant—” I start to say, but she glances down at the to-go cup before taking a big swig, wincing as she forces herself to swallow.

I make a face, imagining how badly she must need caffeine if she’s willing to drink that.

“Cold?” I ask.

“Very.”

I try to take the cup back but she pulls it closer to her body, claiming it as hers. Then she looks out the window again.

“I don’t care if it’s cold,” she says, stubbornly. “I still need the caffeine.”

She grips the paper cup tightly, like it’s a valued possession, running her thumb up and down the thick seam.

“Tired?” I ask.

“One might say.”

“You can take a nap on the way to the airport if you’d like. Although there’s a—”

“Thanks to your unexpected delivery, and, really, this whole unexpected trip, I was up half the night trying to decide what to bring,” she interrupts before I can tell her about the bed on the plane that she’s welcome to use.

She sighs angrily then glances across the aisle, as if this whole thing was my idea.

I press my lips together and raise a brow at her.

“You know I didn’t plan this, right?” I remind her, gently. “I was just trying to help by sending over the bags of clothes to choose from. You didn’t have to take anything from them if you already had what you needed. No pressure.”

She thumbs the seam of the cup even faster.

“Right. No pressure . Totally. Got it.”

She takes another mouthful of coffee, wincing bitterly as it goes down.

I try to stop a smile from creeping over my face but fail.

“You really don’t have to drink that. I can ask the crew to make you whatever you’d like once we get on the plane. Cappuccino, macchiato, Americano . . . do you still drink those triple shot—”

“Of course you can,” she shoots back firmly, “but no thank you.” She chokes down another disgusting swig for good measure.

I purse my lips, fighting the urge to respond too quickly or let my unsettled nerves get the best of me.

“I was only offering some hot form of caffeine that wouldn’t make you gag over there. But, hey, that’s fine. You’re welcome to choke it down, if you can’t make it all the way to the plane for a fresh cup.”

After a year’s worth of imagining how this trip might go, I have my answer loud and clear. It’s going to go terribly.

She relents, though still clearly aggravated.

“I mean, sure, Si, I’ll have some coffee on the plane.

” She places the cup back in the cupholder.

“I know you didn’t plan this. I just didn’t sleep very well.

I can pay you back for whatever I kept of the clothes.

I made a list on my phone to keep it fair.

I’ll email it so you can tally up the cost. Or maybe I can send it straight to Katie? ”

“No need,” I tell her, throwing a tight smile over the aisle. She has no idea that any one of the mere T-shirts Katie picked out cost no less than a few hundred dollars each. And then there was everything else.

“No. I don’t want to owe you for anything, Si. I can pay for my half of the trip, too.”

This time, I can’t hold back a laugh. It erupts from somewhere deep inside before I can stop it.

She cranes her neck in what must be a glare. I can’t be completely sure, since her glasses are so dark, but it would certainly fit the mood.

I clear my throat, trying to stifle the laugh and what I’m sure is an obnoxious smile taking over my face.

“No. The trip is all taken care of. And you definitely don’t have to pay me back for an unexpected delivery of clothing and luggage that you never even asked for.

I was happy to help get you ready for this trip, even if delivering every item in three different sizes turned out to be a nuisance to you last night instead of helpful.

I knew you wouldn’t have time to shop, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with something three sizes too big if we estimated your sizing all wrong.

It’s been a while since I’ve — since we’ve — well, since I’ve seen you.

Katie did all the work anyway, so, no worries. She’s on payroll. It’s not a big deal.”

If I had to guess, I’d say she just rolled her eyes at me.

I look down, trying not to smile too hard.

God, I’ve missed her.

“Ah, yes, you have someone to handle all the things . Please thank Katie on payroll for me then,” she replies, sounding sarcastic as hell.

“I already owned most of what I packed, but I hadn’t worn a few things in a while, so some of it no longer fit.

Like a swimsuit. Can’t remember the last time I went swimming, so I appreciated having the options, even if Katie thought I should wear a couple cuts of dental floss pretending to be a bikini on this little adventure. ”

I break into a wider grin without even trying to hide it.

Truthfully, I had no part in that, although I’m happy to hear Katie’s taste in clothing options will suit Jules well.

All I did was show Katie her Instagram page to show her what Jules is like, and then I gave her creative freedom to style some options for the trip.

No doubt she must have taken note and shopped accordingly. Can’t argue with that.

“Grant really didn’t give me much of a heads-up to get ready for all this though, did he? Or to budget for this type of trip, like, at all. But just tell me what I owe you and I’ll send it over Venmo or something.”

“No need,” I say, wanting to change the subject away from money.

“Let me pay for my half,” she says firmly, turning to me.

“No.”

“I insist.”

“Nope.”

“Tell me what I owe you or I’ll be forced to guess and send it over Venmo. And I wouldn’t want to hurt your man pride by guessing too low.”

I scoff.

“Jules, just the jet fuel and crew for the first leg of the flights costs more than what most people make in a year,” I say, coolly. There’s no way I’m letting her touch her bank account again for anything until we’re back on US soil, officially parting ways. It’s just not happening.

She angles her body back toward the window, sulking, staring blankly toward the rising sun.

“Doesn’t matter. My coaching business does fine, and I still have the money from the sale of the—” She pauses before finishing that sentence. “I can pay my half,” she adds defiantly.

“I know. You do very well for yourself. But just let this be my treat so we can move on.”

She grumbles something under her breath that sounds a bit like asshole .

“I’m really proud of you, by the way. Growing that business yourself from scratch,” I tell her, trying to shift our conversation in a new direction.

A choking sound sputters out of her and she turns to face me again. “Proud? Gee, thanks, Daddy.”

I almost forgot how feisty she can be. This might be more fun than I thought.

“Okay, I’m happy for you then.” I correct my wording. “I know you’re killing it. I know you don’t need anything from me.”

“Correct.”

“But just let this trip be my gift to you. And to Grant. For old time’s sake.”

A blanket of silence fills the car.

There, I’ve said it out loud. Grant’s name. Successfully ripped the bandage off. Seated the elephant right here in the middle of the car. The one thing still holding us together, even though we’ve obviously drifted apart.

Finally, she nods solemnly and turns back toward the window.

“Fine,” she whispers a moment later. “You can do it for Grant.”

We ride the rest of the way to the airport, following our little truce, in silence, minus the light piano music Patrick has playing over the speakers to keep the mood cheery when it feels anything but.

While planning this trip, I took every minuscule detail into consideration, from what she might like to drink on the way to the airport to what thread count sheets she might find the most comfortable while sleeping in the bed during long flights abroad.

But, the one thing I couldn’t adequately plan for was how to hedge off a broken heart.

How she might show up to the car this morning with dark sunglasses on, probably from crying all night since I’m the man taking her on this trip instead of the love of her life.

I could never have planned for how she clearly doesn’t want to look at me, even as a friend.

I’ve taken care of everything I could think of to keep her comfortable and safe, but I don’t know how to take care of that .

So, instead of pushing her more or filling the car ride with aimless chatter that’ll probably do more harm than good, we race toward the runway without saying another word.

Meanwhile, I silently apologize for having to put her through any of this.

The torture of having to travel with me , to ride with me instead of Grant, doing things they talked about doing together. I get it. She hates me. I did that. But I promised my best friend that I would look after her for the next few weeks.

So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Whether she actually wants me to or not.