Falling Fast

“Okay.” She wipes at her face as she looks at me then her eyes go over my shoulder. I turn to watch my brother and Nat drive by, with Nat waving at us out her window. “Do you think Nat will be okay?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Maybe Carson can bring her home,” she says hopefully, and I look into her eyes and see the same look there that she had just last night.

“Christ,” I mutter, listening to her laugh. Sliding my thumbs across her wet cheeks, I wipe away the tears that are there, then press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Let’s get you home.” I step back and slam her door closed. Heading around to the driver’s side door, I loosen my tie then unhook the top button of my dress shirt to make it more comfortable. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I get in behind the wheel then drive us home, where we spend a few hours alone in bed doing nothing more than just holding onto each other and talking quietly.

And when Nat gets back, she tells Gia that Carson drove her home, which means Gia spends the rest of the night smiling.

~**~

“Call as soon as you land!” Gia shouts, and Nat looks back over her shoulder and waves before heading for security. “I already miss her,” she says, and I wrap my arm around her waist and turn us toward the exit.

“She’ll be back. And you’ll see her in a few weeks when we go to Chicago.”

“I know,” she sighs, sliding her arm behind my back and grabbing hold of my tee. “Did I tell you that Carson got her number?”

“Yeah, baby. You told me ‘bout a hundred and fifty-two times,” I mutter, and she laughs, pressing her face into the side of my chest.

“It’s exciting.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I warn, opening the door for her to get in her Jeep, which we drove to the airport since my dad is using my Suburban to haul stuff around today.

“I’m not,” she lies, and I let out a bark of laughter.

She’s been plotting for the last few days; she even got my mom in on it. I know this, because just last night, Mom invited her Nat and I over to dinner. She also invited Carson. Mom and Gia both arranged us at the table so that Carson and Nat sat next to each other. And then after dinner, they suggested we play a game called Know It or Blow It, where they partnered us up into teams of couples, which meant Nat and Carson were once again paired up. I could tell my brother was onto Mom and Gia, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“He kept looking at her all night. I think he likes her,” Gia keeps up as I get in behind the wheel.

“She’s pretty and sweet, babe, but she lives hundreds of miles away, so I doubt he’s going to go there with her.”

“You never know.”

“You’re right. I don’t know,” I agree, leaving the parking garage and stopping at the exit to pay. Hearing Gia’s phone ring, I watch her dig it out of her bag then see her look at the number before sliding her finger across the screen.

“Hello,” she answers, putting the phone to her ear. “Yes, this is Gia Caro. Yes, Tuesday at four works for me. Okay, great. Thank you so much, I look forward to seeing you too.”

She hangs up and I glance over at her. “What’s up?”

“That was the school Nat and I dropped my resume off to yesterday. They want me to come in on Tuesday next week to interview for a teaching position,” she says.

I reach over, picking up her hand. Bringing it to my mouth, I press a kiss to her fingers. “That’s great news, baby.”

“I want to cry,” she whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“They would be happy tears,” she adds, and I squeeze her hand.

“I don’t like any of your tears, happy or not,” I tell her honestly, then ask, “What grade will you be teaching when you get the job?”

“If I get the job, I’ll be teaching preschoolers.”

“When you get the job.”

“If I get it.”

“Dimples, you’ll get the job.”

“We’ll see,” she murmurs.

~**~

The following week, I watch Gia walk through the door of the bar with an expression on her face I can’t read. I didn’t see her this morning when she left for her interview, since I was already at work. Seeing her now, I know it’s probably a good thing I didn’t, because I would have made her late for her interview, since all I can think about is pulling her hair out of the bun on top of her head, ripping open the yellow, long-sleeved, form-fitting top she has on, yanking up the black fitted skirt she’s wearing, and feeling her black heels dig into my back. She looks like a hot schoolteacher.