The Missed Connection by Denise Williams

Author:Denise Williams [Williams, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Felix

I balanced the three cups with the plastic bag hooked over my finger. The concourse wasn’t crowded, and I was able to walk at my normal speed between the coffee shop and our gate, where I’d left Gia with our bags. I’d only been gone ten minutes, but the thought of sitting next to her again had me speeding up and knowing I should slow down. The night before had messed with my head in the best and then the worst way. I hadn’t slept and then had felt annoyed all day during our meetings. Then she’d said to forget it.

“Attention in the boarding area, our flight to San Diego is full . . .”

All I wanted was to forget the entire thing had happened, but ahead of me I saw her near the shard of fading sunlight shining in the large window, scrolling through her phone, a few curls escaping the bun on her head and framing her face. She wasn’t wearing a lot of makeup, but her lips were a dark red color. The color never seemed to fade, so I assumed it was natural.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She eyed me skeptically. Busted.

“Is your lipstick tattooed on?”

She laughed and reached to take the items in my hand. “You ask the weirdest questions. No. It’s long-lasting lipstick.”

I glanced away and put ice in a bundle of napkins for her wrist, dipping my fingers in the cup of ice, considering the chill a good diversion. When I handed it to her, she held out a red tube to me. “You want to try it?”

I saw the way her features twitched when she put the ice on her wrist. “I don’t think it’s my color.” I took the tube anyway, examining it. Power Pout. I chuckled at the name before I handed it back. “I’ve been told I pout weakly.”

Gia nudged my elbow. “Give yourself more credit. I’m sure you can pout with the best of them. Give me a duck-lip pose.” She modeled, arranging her lips dramatically, as if for a selfie. The expression did nothing to diminish how gorgeous she looked, but I laughed despite myself, setting the soda next to her.

“I’ll pass. Thanks.” I handed her the plastic bag. “Tylenol and some cookies.”

“Thank you. A girl could get used to this, Feels,” she said, abandoning the duck face. I let her get away with the nickname. “It’s really not that bad.”

“Doesn’t hurt to take care of it.” I settled in the seat next to her, opening the bottle of water I’d bought for myself.

“Thank you.” She sank her teeth into that Power Pout–tinted lower lip. “You could do one more thing for me.”

Anything. I’d pulled my phone from my pocket already, prepared to check emails and get myself back to a normal place, on steady footing. “You want me to tell you the ways in which your latest paper could be improved?”

“I don’t think I’d need to ask to get that from you.”

“You’re right.

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