Planes, Trains, and All the Feels by Livy Hart EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Livy Hart
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Romance Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
CASSIDY
My mother will disown me if I miss this flight.
Dramatic? Yes. But so is she.
I promised I’d be at her disposal all week to help with every painstaking
detail of my sister Isabelle’s wedding. Mom’s standards for society
gatherings sit about five million feet above sea level, and this one is the
event to rule them all. The biggest day of her beloved oldest daughter’s life.
Her chance to shine as mother of the bride.
If I screw this up… Let’s just say Los Angeles hath no fury like
Francesca Bliss scorned.
Cold sweat beads above my brow as Trixie the Toyota and I drive another
circuit of Charlotte Airport’s long-term parking lot. A volatile mix of snow
and sleet—in spring, courtesy of a moody Mother Earth—swirls all around
me, making it difficult to see farther than ten feet in any direction.
My plan to appease one mother, thwarted by another. Delightful.
Everything would’ve been fine if I’d made it here an hour ago, as I
intended when I chose this particular night flight to bookend an awesome
teaching opportunity. But highway traffic moved at a glacial pace for my
entire drive from Stop, Drop, and Bop, and I was late leaving class. The
dance students were Enthusiastic with a capital E, and I couldn’t very well
run out on them when they wanted to keep filming my choreography.
Regardless, I cannot afford to miss a flight that I could barely afford in
the first place.
I circle the lot like a ground-dwelling hawk, waiting for my opening. If I
don’t find a spot soon, I may abandon Trixie in the middle of an aisle and
make a run for the shuttle. Either that, or mow over the motorcycle that
decided it was okay to take up two spots. Two, when even one feels like too
much space to afford a glorified scooter.
Not that Trixie could mow down anything. My car is about as trustworthy
as the pull-out method and threatens death every time I take her more than a
few miles.
A glint of silver at the very end of the row catches my eye as a minivan
reverses out of a space in a slow crawl. An end cap is about to open up.
Perfection in parking spot form. I could cry with relief.
Gaze fixed on the van, I zoom down the aisle as I breathe through my
jitters. I need to pace myself with these nerves. Traveling is the easy part of
going home. I fled Los Angeles two and a half years ago to escape my
mother’s overbearing orbit, yet this wedding and my role as maid of honor
have sucked me right back in. But since it’s my job to ensure this is the
champagne-wishes soiree of Isabelle’s dreams, I’ll endure the stressors with
a smile.
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