by Zoey Derrick
After tracking down the heaviest coat I own, and putting it on top of my suitcase, I’m as packed as I’m going to get given the amount of time I’ve had. I have to get moving if I’m going to make it on this damn flight. I shake my head at what he’s done but I can’t help feeling excited and yet a little nervous.
After what almost happened the other night, I don’t know if there will be any way to slow him down from seducing me once I’m in New York. Then a thought occurs to me. I don’t want him to slow down. This is fucking insane. I don’t even know him, not really, and here I am running off to New York City to spend the weekend with him? What is wrong with me? Hormones. My subconscious finally rears her head but rather than talk sense into me, she’s telling me I’m an idiot for still standing there.
“Gah!” I groan.
I reach into the Apple bag on the counter, the iPad box isn’t the only thing in there and I pull out a pair of vibrant red Beats headphones. I shake my head. It’s too damn much. But I can’t help opening the box. They’re gorgeous. I throw my backup battery I use for my phone and all my charging cables into the old make-up bag I use to hold my cables and I throw everything into my travel bag. I look around the room, making sure I’m not leaving anything necessary as I close the case on the iPad and slip it into my bag. Grabbing my phone, I stop at the island. Shit.
I scarf down a few more bites of the dinner Dyson had sent over for me before cleaning up the dishes and corking the wine and placing it in the fridge. I scribble a note for Becca and I leave it on the island.
B –
Gone away for the weekend, be back sometime Sunday.
We need to talk.
Call me.
-V
I grab my keys from the counter, turn out the lights and leave the apartment with my roller bag behind me and my tote slung over my shoulder. All my fun new toys are inside as I walk the half a block to the train station.
I’m in luck when it arrives just a few minutes after I arrive on the platform.
I send a text to Dyson.
On the train, you crazy ass fool.
Dyson: Get here, faster.
Ireland: I can’t make the train move faster or the plane for that matter. Patience grasshopper.
I imagine his chuckle at the expression. It’s an oldie, but a good one that I used to use on him all the time.
Dyson: I’ve been waiting ten years, my patience has run out.
I smile wide at the screen as the train trudges toward downtown Phoenix and Sky Harbor airport.
Chapter 24
Ireland
“Leaving On A Jet Plane” - Caroline Pennell
The whole time I’ve been sitting here on the train, I’ve been grinning like a Cheshire cat. I put my old headphones in my ears. I didn’t want to show off the new ones Dyson got me and I keep my iPod in my purse. Occupational hazard of riding the train for too long. Especially at night.
We passed through downtown and I only had a couple more stops before the airport when my phone buzzes.
Becca: Where are you going?
Ireland: New York.
Becca: What the hell is in New York?
Ireland: Dyson. He’s flying me out there for the weekend.
Becca: I guess we really do need to talk.
Ireland: When I get home, k?
Becca: K. Don’t get dead.
I roll my eyes at my friend. That’s her usual retort when it comes to me doing something she doesn’t necessarily agree with and I can’t help wondering what her problem is or has been since we were at Blu last week Friday. Jesus, I can’t believe how much things have changed in less than a week and I haven’t even begun to see where in the hell this might be going with Dyson.
Before I can dwell on it, the Sky Harbor stop arrives and I climb from the train, checking my watch. I have a little over an hour before my flight. I take the escalator to the skyway toward the tram that will take me to the airport terminal.
Once I step into the airport, I’m thankful I have just under an hour left before my flight. I panic briefly when I see there’s a line for boarding passes, but then I remember there are kiosks upstairs where I can check-in and print my pass because I don’t have bags to check.
The airport is shutting down for the night, the shops are closing up and there are not very many people milling about. Thankfully, the line through security is short.
After I got on the train, Dyson texted me my confirmation number and I punch it into the kiosk and go through the steps until my boarding pass spits out of the slot and I walk to the security line only to see more people in line than I’d originally thought. My heart sinks. I’m gonna miss my flight.
I walk to the nearest TSA Agent and I show him my boarding pass and he directs me to a line along the window and I’m confused. “First class,” he states simply.
Holy shit.
I’d heard Dyson say it, but I never expected I would be able to dodge the line. No wonder he booked this flight. He knew I would make it, no matter what.
I walk tentatively down the line toward the TSA checkpoint, feeling like a line dodger, pretending to be someone I’m not. As I go I pull my wallet from my purse and grab my ID as I wait for my turn. There is only one other person in front of me and no one standing at the belts to put their bags on. I smile. He’d inadvertently thought of everything without even trying.
I hand the guy my boarding pass and ID, he does his thing, making sure I’m legit, gives me a once over. No doubt the Chucks, the 69 Bottles t-shirt, jeans and beanie have him all sorts of confused. Before I know it, I’m through security headed to my gate.
Ireland: You’re spoiling me with this.
Dyson: Always. Are you through security?
Ireland: Yup, almost to the gate.
Dyson: Good, I can’t wait to kiss you.
Ireland: Is that all you want to do? Just kiss me?
Dyson: Oh no princess, my tongue is going to lavish your entire body.
His text sends a tingle of heat down my spine that pools in my core. Fuck, this is going to be a long flight. I can’t stop smiling at my phone like an idiot until I nearly collide with someone. Apologizing, I walk around them and head toward a seat to wait for my boarding.
I pull out the new iPad and click the button. The background image is of a bouquet of white roses that appear to be sitting on a desk. Until I see the card propped up against the vase, I didn’t realize it was the roses I sent him during our little war of roses on Monday. It makes me smile. Looking past the background I smile wider when I see he’s added a few apps to the iPad for me, the Kindle App for one. “How’d he know?” I mutter to no one. I open it up and I realize I have internet access. There are bars in the corner indicating I have a wireless signal. I shake my head, but sign into my Amazon account and I have access to all the books on my cloud. I go searching for the one I’ve been reading about an ex-Navy Seal and his long lost love. I hadn’t known that’s what it was about until I started reading, but I got hooked and haven’t been able to stop. I remember Dyson mentioned something about putting things on here for me and I scroll through different apps until I get to the movies app.
The huge grin I already had on my face grows impossibly larger as I see one of the movies he downloaded for me. How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. I shake my head, but that’s when I note the mail icon. There’s a little red number 1 on it. Impatience wins out and I press it. The mail program opens and there is only one email account, “Tigress.” I click on it and see an email from Dyson addressed to me.
“Good Evening, ladies and gentleman, welcome to flight….” The announcer goes on talking about starting the boarding process and I stow the iPad. I’ll read it when I get on the plane.
I stow my suitcase overhead and tuck my purse under the seat in front of me after taking out my headphones and iPad and I pull my phone from my pocket.
There are only two other passengers in first class with me and I put my headphones on, ignoring the boarding passengers as I p
lug the headphones into the iPad and I go to the music app, forgetting that I don’t have my music on here. I smile like an idiot when I see there is a ton of different music on here and then I notice a playlist labeled ‘Dyson’ and I click on it. I smile when I realize the songs on here are a lot of the ones we always seemed to be listening to as we were kids. But then I notice some newer ones and I realize he’s given me a taste of Dyson, then and now, and it makes me even giddier. I feel like I did as a girl in high school- struck stupid by the idea of a new friend or even a new boyfriend. Though Dyson has been the only one, it reminds me of that time.
I press the random option and let the playlist play. The first song to pop-up is Uncle Kracker’s ‘Follow Me’ and I grin to myself as it starts to play. God, that song. I sing quietly along with the song as I start to read Dyson’s email to me.
My Dearest VeeVee,
Thank you.
Those words hardly begin to express what I’m feeling right now. Your forgiveness means everything to me. I always dreamed about the day I would finally manage to find you after all these years. A million and one scenarios played through my mind about what I would say and how I would handle things, but I didn’t know until I saw you how much you still affected me and every idea I’d had over the years flew out the window.
I need to apologize for my behavior in the lobby that day, the day of your interview. My actions were uncalled for and I should never have snapped at you the way I did. I could go deeper into why it is I was so upset that day, but it had nothing to do with you or the coffee and you got the brunt of that anger when you truly didn’t deserve it. Even if you weren’t you, I would still feel this way, so please know I mean it.
Second, I need to apologize again for yesterday. You were right, I was hurt, but I wasn’t hurt by you. I was crushed because my attempt at doing the right thing did no good for anyone. Not me, not you, and certainly not your brother. I didn’t want to leave Joplin. I was happy there, but I was only seventeen and I didn’t have much of a choice. All of my attempts to convince my mom to let me stay were thwarted. I even tried to convince her that your mother would let me move in to finish out high school. I think at some point even Lauren suggested just that, but my mother wasn’t having it, so to Atlanta I went, without you.
After I graduated high school and turned eighteen, I wanted to go back, to find you, to win you back. I tried so many times, but I could never make it all the way to J-Town. I lost my nerve. I was so afraid I’d really hurt you, that I’d never be able to win you back and I couldn’t handle the idea of never holding you in my arms again.
As the years went on, I was afraid to go back because I was afraid of what I would find when I got there. I was afraid I would find you’d moved on with your life. That you’d be married, with a family, or simply had gotten over what it was that we had. I know now that wasn’t the case and I want to do everything I can to make it up to you.
That’s what made me realize I had to make something of myself before I could even attempt to find you. I know it sounds so cliché, but it’s true.
There is much more to this story, but the whole point of this email is to say that I need you in my life. No matter what. I can understand if you don’t want to be with me, but I beg you to please let me into your life. Even if it is for nothing more than for friendship. I watched you walk into your apartment yesterday and the idea of losing you again destroyed me. VeeVee, I need you.
Always Yours,
Dyson
I read the email twice before killing the Wi-Fi signal and texting Dyson, letting him know I was on my way. His reply was quick and three little words.
I.Can’t.Wait.
Once we are airborne, I reread the email three more times, taking in everything he said to me, even though it was written, it is the most open and honest he’s ever been with me and it tears at my heartstrings.
If I ever wondered whether or not I could let Dyson back into my life, the heartache of the last twenty-four hours is proof I don’t have much of a choice. Without him, I will either fall apart completely or become the skinniest, cleanest woman on the planet.
While we flew through the night, I compose my own email to him.
When I am done, and satisfied with it, I connect to the plane’s internet and send the email. I want him to have it before I land, so he will know what is in my heart and on my mind as I fly across the country to him. I wrote the email with the sounds of Dyson’s playlist in my ears.
Chapter 25
DYSON
“Learning To Live Again” - Garth Brooks
I’ve been pacing around my penthouse for too long and the sound of the silence is making me insane. I thought for sure once she was airborne I would have settled down some but she’s been on the plane for a little over three hours already, and I’m still pacing.
Why am I so fucking nervous? I don’t understand it. I’ve never had a problem with women, ever.
But this is her. This is my VeeVee.
My phone chimes with the new tone I set after setting up the email account I used to email Ireland. I don’t do much with personal emails and I didn’t want her emails going through work. Truthfully, I don’t want them to get lost in the constant flow of emails coming into my inbox. I want hers to be front and center, always.
I grab my phone and click on the email program to find the email. For the first time in about three hours, I sit down, then I read her words to me.
Thank you, Dyson.
I am sitting here in what can only be described as the biggest airplane seat I’ve ever had, checking out all the goodies you’ve left for me on this iPad, which by the way, is way too much. On top of the headphones, which are amazing too. Add to that the clothes you so obviously went back and purchased after yesterday. I feel like I’m going to be thanking you forever. So I guess I’ll just say this…
I can’t believe I’m coming to New York.
I’ve never been to the Big Apple before.
There’s a first for everything, I think before I continue reading her words.
You say that you need to make something of yourself, why? I can’t believe I ever gave you the impression you weren’t what I wanted or you weren’t good enough for me. Though I think we both had the same feeling because after you left, I fought hard to lose weight, get in shape and be someone worthy of your attention. So I guess in the end, we’re both a little guilty of thinking neither one of us were good for each other.
God, I loved her exactly the way she was. That’s the reason I always found women who were the exact opposite of her. Always. Blondes, skinny as rails, straight hair, no glasses, anything that wouldn’t remind me of Ireland.
I never imagined seeing you again, though like you, I had a million and one things that I would say to you when and if it finally happened, but instead, I kicked you in the nuts. Though I am sorry I did it, I won’t deny the sense of gratification I got out of it. If you hadn’t been dancing with my roommate at the time, I might not have gone to such extremes.
That’s my tigress.
Don’t get me wrong, I won’t hesitate to do it again when you’re being an asshat, prickweed, manwhore, stuck-up-cocky-bastard, or three thousand dollar suit wearing pencil dick, or any combination of the above.
I let out a long roar of laughter as I remember her roses. “I would expect nothing less out of you, sweetheart,” I say aloud to no one.
In the end, Dyson, I have no idea where all of this is going to go, where this is going to lead, and I am scared to death of giving you even the tiniest piece of me. I don’t want to feel that way, but I know if I don’t give into this, I will regret it for the rest of my life. In the end, and what’s most important, I have no idea how to do this, so please, be patient with me.
Your VeeVee
The smile on my face won’t leave, no matter how hard I try to make it.
My fingers twitch with the desire to reply to her. Obviously she’s taking advantage of the airplane’s onboard Wi-Fi, but I w
ant her to rest. I can’t promise she’ll get any once she’s here.
Her parting lines make me think about the precious gift of trust she’s offering me and I don’t know how to handle that. How do I prove to her I’m not going to run, not ever again?
Time.
The voice in my head tells me, you have to give her time. You can’t expect her to trust you so fast. You have to give her the chance to trust you, prove to her that you’re worthy of all that she’s trying to give you, despite the fact you don’t deserve it.
I check my watch for the thousandth time. Less than two hours. It’s approaching five in the morning in New York, and I look out the window, seeing a few flurries flying between the buildings and the steam rising out the of the vent shafts of the buildings that surround mine. I should have told her to pack a jacket. Shit, does she even own a jacket?
I call Byron.
“Yes, boss,” his deep timber comes through the phone.
“We need to go to JFK in about forty-five.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll have the car ready.”
“I want the limo.”
“You got it. Anything else, sir?”
“How cold is it outside?”
“Right now, around seventeen, but it’s supposed to warm above freezing today.”
“Thanks, I’m picking up a weekend guest.” I know he’s not going to ask questions, I pay him not to, but I hate the fact this is a familiar discussion. Dread washes over me at the idea that Ireland has, for some unknown reason, remained celibate and I’ve been, well, to use her word, a manwhore. “I’ll need to go into the airport and I don’t know if she’s going to have a jacket.”