Chapter 5: Last Chance to Change Your Mind

Chapter 5: Last Chance to Change Your Mind

(An hour ago)

Luke arrived at the airport slightly hung over. Should have known better than to go out drinking with Charlie, he thought. The two men had barhopped for a while, finally landing at Luke's favorite Manhattan pub, Paddy Reilly's on the lower east side. They'd been in luck and caught the Prodigals' set at eleven.

Charlie had been in chat mode all evening. "So tell me about the dame you were with when I called you that day," he probed.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Just some chick from a bar. I don't know. What do you want me to say?"

"What you need is to find a nice girl, settle down," Charlie slurred. "Bella is a nice girl."

"Bella?" Luke asked.

"Aw, dammit, I didn't mean for you to know her name before you met her," Charlie shook his head. "Bourbon loosens my lips." He blew a raspberry for emphasis.

Luke had felt a flash of irritation at the notion of settling down. "I've been married, and you saw how that turned out."

"You married a girl named Tiffany. That's a stripper's name. You shoulda known that would go down in flames," Charlie reasoned with boozy confidence.

"How about this? How about you find a nice girl and settle down. Elizabeth's been gone for, what, five years?" Luke regretted the words as soon as they left his lips. Charlie's wife Elizabeth had been the nicest person, bar none, Luke had ever met. He still donated to breast cancer charities in her memory.

"Nope," Charlie shook his head. "Elizabeth was the love of my life. There will never be anyone else for me. That's what you need, my boy," Charlie stabbed a bony finger into Luke's chest. "You need to find the love of your life."

Some night, last night. As soon as Luke entered the airport lounge, he ordered a Scotch. Hair of the dog and all that.

Now he was sitting here waiting for some travel show host chick. To go, he knew not where. They were supposed to meet in the first-class lounge and await Charlie's call. What the fuck?! Why all the bullshit cloak and dagger business? Luke checked his watch. It wasn't too late to hop a plane back to Tampa. He could be wasted away and looking for his lost shaker of salt by happy hour.

Women are always late, he fumed. Why did I agree to this? Dragging some whiny-ass princess around the world for three months? He imagined a prissy female voice complaining, "I broke a nail! Where can I plug in my blow dryer? I'm not eating that!" I must have lost my mind…

The door to the lounge opened and in walked a stunning redhead. The sunlight streaming into the room from the high windows across the way just caught her from behind, lighting up her auburn curls as if they were on fire. He watched her glance around the room, soft brown eyes searching for someone. She walked past without looking his way, then stopped, unsure.

"Bella?" he asked, before he could stop himself. She turned, surprised, then she smiled, reaching to shake his hand.

"Hello! Bella. Isabella. Um, just Bella. Grant. And you are?"