20. Natalie #3
"With daughters this beautiful, I'd say they're worth the trouble,” Dash said, his smile bouncing between the two of them.
Natalie's face grew hot and she had to look away. A car pulled to a stop right in front of the valet stand, halting all discourse. The driver stepped from the car. “Natalie Powell?” he asked.
"That's me." Natalie raised her hand.
"I wish you didn't have to go, honey. Are you sure you can't stay?" Foster gathered her back into his arms.
"I wish I could, but I really have to go," Natalie said. “I’ve got an important meeting in the morning I can’t miss.”
She released her father and turned to Kate, fighting to stay in character. Kate pulled her in for a tight hug and said, "Call me later?"
“Of course.”
"Any baggage, ma'am?" the driver asked, tapping the trunk of his car.
Sir, if you only knew how loaded a question that is …
"Actually yes, I almost forgot." Natalie took a few steps toward her father's SUV.
"Let me help you,” Foster and Kate said in unison.
"No, I'll get her bags," Dash said.
Dash walked to the back of Foster's Suburban and retrieved Natalie's things.
Her heart shot up into her throat as she watched him load her bags into the waiting car.
He hadn't changed a bit, displaying that same gentlemanly aura that swept her away in London.
He closed the trunk and opened the car door for her.
As they stood facing one another, Natalie searched his eyes for some small sign of recognition.
Give me something, I’m begging you.
Please tell me that night meant as much to you as it did to me.
If I could go back in time …
The knots in her stomach worked their way up to her throat. It was getting mighty crowded in her esophageal region.
"Be safe," he said, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
"I will. And thank you."
Dash offered his hand to her once more. "It was so nice to have met you, Natalie.”
The moment he emphasized her name, she knew.
Like The Matrix scene on the patio, their goodbye played out in slow-motion.
Natalie squeezed his hand with all her might, but he didn’t let go.
She drank in his face, his eyes, his scent—to the point that the parking lot melted away, leaving him in a robe and her barefoot in his Texas Longhorns sweatshirt.
“Call us when you land, honey. And give my best to Hart,” Foster hollered.
The mention of Hart killed the moment. Natalie broke eye contact, released Dash’s hand, and called back to her father. “Will do. Love y’all.”
She closed the door and waved goodbye, desperate to escape before her emotional dam burst. The car had barely made it out of the parking lot when the tears started, her head throbbing with a supersize headache.
The city outside her window whizzed past as they sped toward the airport; cars and signs and buildings distorted by a rush of hot tears.
The driver broke the awkward silence. "Ma'am, are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," she answered, her voice tight.
"I've got some tissues up here if you need one."
"Thank you, but I'm good."
Everyone! Stop asking me if I'm okay!
I'm clearly not okay! Okay?
She rifled through her clutch for a moment, stopping when she uncovered the forgotten handkerchief from the gala.
Covered with the stains of red wine, she found the last remaining clean space and wiped her eyes and nose.
She studied the monogram in the corner, tracing Dash’s initials—DSB—with her finger.
Dash is crazy for Kate. She’s crazy for him. You saw it. Everyone saw it.
Concealment IS everything. Might as well take this secret to the grave.
For strategic purposes, Natalie parked herself and her Shake Shack order one gate over from her assigned gate. She hadn’t spotted Hart, thank God. If she could somehow slip on and off the flight without a run-in, it would be an answered prayer.
The fib she’d told Foster about her flight being delayed had unfortunately come true and the flight back to Chicago was now way behind schedule.
She emailed the jazz trio to let them know the current state of affairs, and also to ascertain the level of insurance, if any, they had on their equipment and instruments.
Their trust in her was top priority. She’d just taken a bite of her burger when an announcement sounded throughout the terminal.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we appreciate your patience as we work to get Flight 1168 to Chicago off the ground as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, our flight crew has timed out, and this flight has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning at seven.
Again, our sincerest apologies. For those passengers who are making connections in Chicago, please come to the desk and we will do our best to assist you. "
Natalie reached in the bag for a handful of fries, contemplating her next move.
Accept this for what it is: a blessing in disguise.
Which means more time with Pop and Kate.
And maybe Hart won’t be on my flight tomorrow.
She gathered her things, then high-tailed it to Baggage Claim, texting a travel update to both Noah and Otto’s assistant en route.