Chloe shrugs. “So go see him.”
“What, I’m just supposed to . . . show up? At his hotel? And be like, ‘Hi, I fucked everything up, but love is a crapshoot, so we might as well give this thing a shot’?”
“I mean, you’re the writer, so I’m sure you can come up with a better speech than that, and you might wanna tone down the language if you want a PG-13 rating, but yeah. That’s basically it.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then Chloe says, “Listen. You know I love you, right?”
“Uh-oh,” I say.
“So please take it in the spirit of love when I say that you need to get your head out of your own ass right now.”
“Um, okay. Go on.”
Chloe grabs my hands. “You have a chance right now to do something truly amazing. To go get a guy who’s hot and good in bed and totally into you—”
“Maybe still into me,” I correct her.
She snorts. “Okay, sure. But here’s what I’m saying: I don’t want this to be another chance you don’t take. You’re worried that things with Drew are a big risk, but guess what? Life is a risk, and you can’t protect yourself from heartbreak by refusing to go after what you want. You think Meg Ryan wasn’t taking a risk when she went all the way to Seattle to stare at Tom Hanks?”
“I don’t really know if stalking is the risk I want to take here.”
“Whatever. I don’t want you to spend five more years moping around this house because you’re waiting for life to happen to you. You aren’t stuck here, Annie. Some of us have obligations and people we need to take care of, but not you. Look at Uncle Don—he scored a hot purple-haired girlfriend. He doesn’t need you to look after him.”
“Fair point.”
“You’re in love with Drew, so go tell him that,” Chloe says, looking at me like she’s simply telling me to order a pizza.
I sit up straight. “I can’t be in love with him. I’ve only known him for two weeks.”
Chloe shakes her head at this minor detail. “A lot can happen in two weeks. How many rom-coms have you seen where people fall in love in one wacky, caper-filled night? Maybe it’s time you stopped waiting around for Tom Hanks to show up. Maybe this time you have to be your own Tom Hanks.”
I don’t entirely know what that means, but I do know that Chloe’s right. I’ve cocooned myself in this house, the one I shared with my parents, because I miss them so much and I’m surrounded by their memories. But would they want me to stay here forever, afraid to try something new? I’ll never know for sure, but I think Mom would want me to go for it. Nothing in my life will change unless I take some chances, like actually trying to find a job (hopefully with Tommy’s help) and moving away from the only home and city I’ve ever known.
But first, there’s something else I need to do.
“I have to go talk to Drew.” I pick up a pair of leggings off the floor. “I was an asshole. A huge asshole.”
“That’s a good line for your speech,” Chloe says. “Oh, my God, this is so exciting. I can hear the dramatic music swelling now! I’ll take Don and Tyler over to Nick’s for some coffee while you’re professing your undying love.”
“But you just made coffee.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, but . . . the coffee at Nick’s is much better.”
I narrow my eyes. “You sure you don’t just want to see Nick?”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Annie Cassidy, what exactly are you insinuating?”
“He’s going to find out you didn’t have a family emergency, you know.”
“It was a quick emergency,” she says, still eyeing me skeptically. “Go focus on your own love life and stay out of mine, okay?”
“Okay,” I singsong, not bothering to tell her that I’m writing an entire screenplay about her life. And anyway, focusing on her life is a lot better than focusing on mine, because when I think about what I’m going to do, I’m afraid I might barf.
“Okay, people!” Chloe says when we walk downstairs. I try to avoid noticing that Uncle Don has his arm around Tyler as they watch TV, because it’s so weird to see him in a romantic relationship. I mean, good weird, but still weird.
“We’re going to Nick’s to get coffee while Annie professes her love to Drew Danforth, star of screens large and small,” Chloe continues, pulling on her coat and winding her scarf around her neck.
Don stands up and pats me on the back. “Good for you, sweet pea. It’s always a good idea to tell people how you feel about them. I told Tyler how I felt about her while I was still in my Chewbacca costume.”
Tyler puts her arms around his midsection and beams up at him. “I had to ask him to repeat himself three times, but I was so happy once I heard him.”
“That costume really muffles everything,” Uncle Don says, looking at her as if I’m not even there. “Also, it doesn’t breathe at all.”
Chloe glances at me and raises her eyebrows. “Okay, guys, let’s get a move on.”
As they put their coats on, she whispers to me, “Before they start hard-core making out right here in front of us.”
Chloe, Don, and Tyler head off in one direction while I head off in the other, Chloe blowing kisses to me as I go. She tries to insist that I run toward the hotel because it’s more cinematic, but there’s still a lot of ice on the unshoveled sidewalk, so I elect to walk.
I try to practice what I’m going to say as my boots stomp through the now-smushed-and-gray snow.
I think I like you. Ugh, what am I, twelve?
I’m in love with you. Okay, let’s not come on too strong.
See, I found these letters from my mom that made me question whether love was even real and if the foundation I’d built my belief system on was full of lies, but then Uncle Don used a D&D metaphor as a way of convincing me that maybe love is real. Wow, way too much and kind of a bummer.
By the time I reach the hotel, I still don’t have any great speech in mind, but you know what? I bet Matthew McConaughey’s character didn’t have a speech planned out when he got on his motorcycle to catch Kate Hudson’s character on that bridge at the end of How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. And what he said was passionate and kinda profane, but it ended with a kiss and a slow camera pan-out, so I think it worked out okay for him.
I walk into the lobby, the sliding doors whooshing shut behind me, and realize I don’t even have a plan for finding Drew. What am I going to do, wander the halls calling his name?
“Annie?”
I turn to see Tarah, standing up from one of the lobby’s stylish sofas, next to a few decorative palm fronds that are trying but failing to convince us we’re not in Ohio in the middle of winter.
“Oh! Um, hey. How’s it going?” I stall, trying to come up with a reason I’m in the lobby of Drew’s hotel.
But she sees right through me. “You’re here for Drew?”
“Yes,” I say, the sound of his name filling me with hope.
She frowns, which on her still looks beautiful. “He left for the airport about an hour ago.”
“He . . . he did?” I try to form more words, but everything is crumbling. This was it—my chance to tell Drew how I really felt, my big speech. And now . . . it’s nothing.
“He seemed upset,” Tarah says. “Not that it’s any of my business, but . . . did something happen?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Something happened.”
Tarah sits back down, and I sit down beside her, and that’s how I end up spilling my entire sad life story to a famous movie star right there in the lobby of a hotel.
“Wow.” Tarah leans back. “That’s a lot, but you know what? This is fixable.”
“How?” I ask. “He left.”
She shakes her head and pulls out her phone. “Drew and I were supposed to be on the same flight, but I switched to a later flight because . . .” She looks around, then whispers, “My husband came into town to surprise me, so we’re staying an extra night.”
As if on cue, the lobby doors swoosh o
pen and a man who bears more than a passing resemblance to John Cho walks through the doors holding two bags of food. My breath is temporarily taken away.
“I couldn’t decide between burgers and Thai,” he says, holding up the bags. “So I got both.”
Tarah looks at me and smiles. “I know, I know. A cute guy who brings me multiple food options. I got lucky.”
She introduces us, and he heads up to their room. I assume she’s going to follow him, but then she holds out her phone. “This is his flight number.”
I glance at the phone screen, then at her face. “Okay?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Do with this information what you will. His flight leaves in forty-five minutes, so . . .”
It dawns on me what she’s saying. “I can go talk to him before his flight leaves.”
She shrugs. “I mean, I didn’t say it. But listen. I’ve acted with a lot of guys, and they’ve run the gamut from perfectly nice and bland to jerks with huge egos. Drew is one of the kindest men I’ve run into, and he’s crazy about you. And if I’ve learned anything from working on a Tommy Crisante romantic comedy, it’s that you shouldn’t give up on love.”
“You’re right,” I say as adrenaline starts to flow through me.
She leans in to give me a surprisingly warm hug, and then I run out the door and down the sidewalk.
* * *
• • •
“I have to get to the airport!”
The bell hasn’t even finished jingling before the words are out of my mouth. Everyone in Nick’s looks at me—not just Chloe, Don, and Tyler sitting at my usual table, but Nick and Tobin, and Gary, and a few other regular customers.
“All right!” Gary claps, then pulls on his coat. “Let’s do this.”
“Oh, I don’t think you need to come, Gary,” I say. “No offense.”
He pulls his coat back off. “None taken.”
“Feeling pretty dramatic today, huh?” Nick asks, leaning against the counter.
“Drew is there,” I say to Chloe, still breathless from my run over here. “His flight leaves in”—I check the clock on the wall—“like thirty-five minutes, so I have to get there now.”
Chloe stands up so fast she knocks her chair over. “Nick, I gotta go. Second family emergency of the day.”
“What an urgent day you’re having,” Nick says drily.
“Don, Tyler, you’re coming, too,” Chloe says. “We need emotional support.”
“I’m actually pretty tired,” Tyler says, and she does look exhausted. “Would you mind if I take a nap at your house?”
“Of course, that’s fine,” Don says with such tenderness in his voice that I’m shocked. He normally only sounds that way when talking to his collectibles or me.
Chloe looks around the coffee shop. “In that case, Nick, you’re coming with us.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Why is my presence needed?”
Chloe looks at him like he’s being deliberately dense. “Uh, because this is a classic rom-com rush to the airport and it’s, like, seventy-five percent less effective if we don’t have a car full of people screaming as we run red lights.”
“I don’t run red lights,” Uncle Don tells the shop. “I’m a very safe driver.”
Nick looks skeptical, so Chloe runs behind the counter and grabs his arm. “Come on, Coffee Man, you’re coming with us.”
He puts up no resistance as he attempts to hold back a smile.
“Tobin!” Chloe yells. “You’re in charge! Can you handle it?”
Tobin shrugs.
“Good enough for me!” Chloe yells.
“This is a terrible idea.” Nick sighs. “I’m leaving my business in Tobin’s hands.”
“It’s finally ambient whale sound time.” Tobin double fist pumps.
“All right, people!” Chloe says to the room. “Annie’s off to get the love of her life, so wish us luck!”
Everyone claps, and Gary even wolf whistles. “Is this what it feels like to play team sports?” I whisper to Chloe.
“Wait,” Tobin says, raising a hand behind the counter. “While you’re at the airport, can you pick up my mom and my stepdad? I think I was supposed to do it, but I can’t remember.”
We all stare at Tobin.
“Call your mom and dad, kiddo,” Chloe says, and then we leave.
Chapter Twenty-four
Despite Chloe’s insistence on playing “This Is It” by Kenny Loggins (“It’s the perfect pump-up song!”), the drive to the airport is much less dramatic than it is in most movies, probably because we don’t run into any parades, drive through any road blocks, or ramp over any bridges under construction.
“That was anticlimactic,” Chloe scoffs from the back seat of the Prius when we pull into the airport.
“I don’t care about drama,” I say, tugging off my seat belt as our car moves forward in the drop-off lane. “I just want to talk to Drew.”
“So what’s your plan, here?” Nick asks, leaning forward from the back seat, his head between me and Uncle Don. “Because this isn’t a movie from the early ’90s. You can’t waltz into the airport and talk to someone anymore.”
“I’m going to buy a ticket,” I say like it’s obvious. “That way I can get in there and find Drew.”
“Wow,” Nick says. “You are . . . really invested in this.”
Chloe smacks him on the arm. “It’s called romance, doofus.”
I look over my shoulder and memorize the exact way Nick is gazing at her, the adoration hidden underneath irritation, so I can jot down the precise details in my screenplay.
Later. I can focus on the slow build of their relationship later. Right now, I have to get in the airport, buy a ticket for Drew’s flight, then get to him.
“I’ll be right back,” I call out as I step out of the car.
“I’ll go wait in short-term parking,” Uncle Don says. “Keep us updated.”
“I’m coming with you,” Chloe says, pulling off her seat belt and jumping out of the car.
“Why?” I ask as we walk through the doors, dodging a woman with a giant rolling suitcase. “You’re not buying a ticket. You won’t even be able to go very far.”
“Moral support,” Chloe says, linking her arm with mine. “And because I’m living vicariously through you. As soon as you leave, I’m right back to working and studying.”
I squeeze her arm. Once inside, we quickly find the right counter and run to it. “I need to get on flight 1147,” I practically shout, then try to rein it in because I’m not trying to look unhinged, here.
The man behind the counter clicks a few keys and then looks at me, lips pursed. “Sorry, that flight just boarded and is about to take off.”
“But it’s still here,” Chloe says, leaning forward.
“But you can’t get on it. It’s full, and it’s about to take off.”
Chloe’s mouth falls open. “You can’t, like, stick her in overhead storage or something? She’s a small person.”
“As a matter of policy, we don’t store passengers in our overhead bins,” the man says without smiling.
“Someone’s lap, then,” Chloe says. “One particular passenger’s lap.”
“Lap seating is only for children under two years old,” he says, looking at his computer screen.
“She could fit on someone’s lap!” Chloe shrieks.
“Chlo.” I grab her arm and start to pull her away. “Drop it. I missed him, okay?”
“Wait.” Chloe holds up a finger. “When’s the next flight to New York?”
The man clicks a few more keys, then says, “In an hour and a half.”
“What are you doing, Chloe?” I ask, getting nervous.
“Babe.” She turns to me and holds both of my hands. “This is it. This is your romantic comedy. You have the sad backstory and the montage of ridiculous dating experiences and big career aspirations and the lovable family and, most importantly, the quirky and charming and super-cute BFF.” She points to herself.
“And now it’s time for your grand gesture. Fly to New York and find Drew. Tell him how you feel.”
“Oh, my God,” I say as it slowly dawns on me. “You’re right. I guess I always thought I would be the recipient of a grand gesture, but maybe . . . maybe I have the power to do the grand gesture myself?”
Chloe starts jumping up and down, and then I start jumping up and down. “You’re your own Tom Hanks!” she squeals.
“Ladies,” barks the man behind the counter. “Are you buying tickets or not? You’re holding up the line.”
I give Chloe an uncertain look. Can I really do this? Fly to New York, when I’m not even sure if Drew wants to see me, when the only contact between us all day was one measly text I didn’t even respond to?
Chloe nods at me, and then says smugly, “Yes, sir. Oh, we’re buying tickets.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Apparently Uncle Don has been waiting for an excuse to go to New York because there’s some forum friend he wants to meet who lives there and he’s been “talking about Baldur’s Gate with this guy for ten years!” I’m pretty sure he’s referring to a game, but honestly, sometimes I don’t know.
Chloe somehow convinces Nick he needs to come along with us, and that’s how the four of us, after going through security, end up on our way to New York City. Paying for everyone’s ticket uses up most of the money I made working for Tommy, which might be a reckless financial decision, but I remind myself that the course of true love never did run smooth. That quote comes from the original king of the rom-com, Shakespeare himself, and I’m sure that if he were here right now, he’d approve of my actions (but also he’d be terrified of airplanes).
“I still don’t understand why Don and I are here,” Nick says as we sit at our gate. Although, by the way he’s looking at Chloe, I think he knows exactly what he’s doing here. “And couldn’t you have looked up tickets online instead of driving to the airport first? Also, how much did you have to pay for these tickets, because—”
Waiting for Tom Hanks Page 21
