Perfect Odds

Cali

I nibble on my thumbnail as I watch the other travelers, clad in the makings of a summer vacation, moving to and fro. A woman in oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat saunters by on four-inch heels and a dress that leaves little to the imagination. Hot pink backpacks and black rolling cases bob and weave in a sea of commuters. Our flight is on the second call of now boarding all passengers and Colin has yet to show up or answer my calls. Scanning the crowd, I search for his face, but come up empty. He's still not here. A roiling ball of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. Something must have happened to him. That's the only explanation I can think of that would lead to him not being here.

A toddler wobbles past me, curly blonde pigtails bouncing as plump little legs struggle to support the carefree attempt at running, and stepping aside, I smile down at her as she chants "uh-oh." How freaking cute is that? I bet she gets into all sorts of shenanigans. A woman, with identical blonde curls and green eyes, rushes after her and scoops her up before giggling ensues. She plants a smacking kiss on the child's chubby cheeks before pointing and encouraging the child to say "da-da." A smiling man with unnaturally white teeth approaches with his arms stretched out and the child squeals and squirms as she nearly jumps from the woman's arms. You can't witness such a scene and not smile. Two more years and that'll be me with my own family-number three on my list of priorities. My phone vibrates, startling me out of staring at the trio. Relief envelops me like a warm blanket when I see the picture of Colin on the screen.

"Where are you? They're boarding everyone now. I'll go ahead and let them know we'll make it," I answer, my phone cradled between my shoulder and ear.

"I'm not coming," he says.

I pause in making my way to the counter. Surely, I heard him wrong.

"Hang on a sec, let me ask them how long we have before they can no longer wait. If you're here already it shouldn't be a problem. You'll just need to hurry. Like, sprint through the airport or maybe get one of those guys on the carts to give you a ride somehow."

The attendant flashes a smile at me and holds her hand out for my boarding pass. Her two front teeth are chipped and it makes me think of the time Colin chipped his tooth while playing basketball last year. He got it fixed immediately, so I wonder why she's chosen to leave hers like that. I move to give her the passes, but hear Colin speaking again.

"Cali, you're not listening. I'm not there. I'm not coming either."

Pulling my boarding pass away from the chipped tooth attendant, I force a smile and step away for privacy. "What are you talking about, Colin? I'm here waiting for you." As if he doesn't know that. He helped me load our luggage into the car before I left this morning. Is this some sick joke he's pulling right now?

"Didn't you hear me, Cali? I said I'm not coming," Colin repeats, his voice harsh and grating.

I stare numbly at the 'now boarding' screen above the attendant. I heard him the first two times. It makes as much sense now as it did then-none.

"I don't understand. You can't not come, we're getting married. I can see if they'll schedule us for a different flight. I'm sure it's not too late. We're getting there early enough that one day won't really matter," I tell him.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. He's annoyed? We're four weeks away from our wedding and I'm at the Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta, Georgia, sans fiancé. I woke up at some ungodly hour, battled an hour and a half of bumper to bumper traffic to get here and get us both checked in two hours early, lugged all our suitcases-overweight, I might add-only for him to call when it's time to board the flight to New York and tell me he's not coming. Yet, he's annoyed?

"I don't know what else to say, Cali. I'm trying to do right by you here. We both knew this wouldn't end well. This was a mistake. A huge mistake and you're only making it harder. I can't do this right now. For once, just let something go."

My mouth opens, but I quickly close it. I don't even know how to respond to that. A mistake? What part of this is the mistake? One of the biggest occasions in my life-number one on the list-is a huge mistake for him? My stomach clenches and I fold my free arm over it as though that will help. 'We' didn't know this wouldn't end in anything but a marriage. 'Do right by me?' How is standing me up for our wedding doing right by me? I didn't ask to marry myself. I didn't insist on us having a short engagement or me moving in with him.

I watch as the attendant lifts a phone to her mouth and smiles. A few seconds later I hear her disembodied voice over the PA system.

"This serves as a final boarding call for Delta Flight 1762 with service to Buffalo New York. All ticketed and confirmed passengers should report to Gate C23 for immediate departure."

"Look, I can hear them in the background. You shouldn't be at the airport alone. Just go back to your parents' place and we'll talk more about this later. I have to get back to work," Colin says.

My parents' place!? He's kicking me out!? And why is he at work? We're supposed to be leaving. Like, right now! I open my mouth to speak, not entirely sure what I'll say, but I'm cut off by someone roughly bumping my shoulder. Silently, I watch as my phone crashes to the ground and bounce once before landing screen up. It didn't shatter, but the screen is dark. Colin probably thinks I hung up on him. It's much less than he deserves at this point.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

And now I'm invisible. Destined to fade into the background where no one sees me. There goes number two on the list-stand out more. And this guy's apology definitely didn't sound sincere. I look up to see a startling shade of blue staring down at me. Cold blue. I don't like it. Blue is my favorite color, but I like warm blues. Blues that make you think of tropical oasis, Caribbean beaches, and mixed drinks with extra shots. Definitely not blue like this stranger's eyes. That shade of blue makes me anxious and . . . sad? Scared? Why the hell am I thinking about shades of blue when my life has just ended? Stupid stranger not looking where he's going. He's a jerk, just like all men in the universe.

"I'll get that," he declares before grabbing my phone from the floor.

Before I can tell him to just leave me alone, I hear the attendant speaking again.

"Ms. Brenner?" She pauses and looks expectantly at the bearded man standing next to me.

"Cranston," he supplies as he takes a step away from her.

We both turn to give her our attention, although I really don't want to. I want to stand here and wallow in my misery, reach out and pull this guy's thick beard; cause him a little pain so I don't suffer alone. What the hell does Colin mean by 'I can't do this right now'? Was I just . . . dumped? Is Colin breaking up with me or does he just not want to marry me? I let out a snort. Is there really a difference at this point in our relationship? Can we really stay together if he basically rescinds his proposal?

I'm a cliché of epic proportions. I want the fairytale wedding with a princess gown and a horse-drawn carriage. I want a wedding that will resemble a forest at dusk with stars twinkling in the sky and a sensual melody playing in the background. The attendant clears her throat and I realize they're both staring at me. I wave my hand, gesturing for her to speak.

"We need you to board if this is your flight. We really have to close the gate now."

"Our apologies for being late," Mr. Cranston grumbles before turning to me and gesturing toward the gate. "After you."

I'm slightly pleased that his apology to her seemed even less sincere. There was also much more annoyance in his voice. I think. Plus, I wasn't even late. I was very much so on time. I was where I was supposed to be and checked in like I should have. Just . . . not with whom I was supposed to be with. Tears well in my eyes and fall quicker than I can blink them away. The attendant clears her throat nervously and a horrified look crosses Mr. Cranston's face.

"Ma'am, the gate," chipped tooth says.

I'm not only crying, but I've given them no real response this entire time and I'm holding up the flight. Colin and I were supposed to be going on this trip to New York as a vacation-and pseudo-honeymoon since it came before the ceremony, and end it with our wedding. Except now, he's not here and he's not coming.

"Allergies," I lie with a forced smile. I hand over my boarding pass and soon enough, I'm on my way to Emerald Resort & Casino, solo.

This is only my second time flying. Ever. Not surprisingly, it's just as traumatic as the first. My eyes flit from the exit signs to the compartment where the flight attendant said the oxygen masks would deploy from. If this plane goes down I want to know exactly where I need to be. The 'fasten seatbelt' light goes off and a voice says something about cruising altitude. I don't move, fingers gripping the armrests, as I will myself to let go so I can tighten my seat belt. I flex my pelvis and the two centimeters I'm able to move lets me know that I definitely need to tighten it.

I shouldn't have that much space, right?

"Nice grip you've got there," a voice says. An slightly familiar and impossibly gravelly voice.

My head jerks upright, eyes landing on those fathomless, glacial blues again. The first-class area of the plane is spacious, but he still manages to take up more than his fair share of the room. How did I not notice his physique before? A dove gray Henley stretches tight across his broad chest and shoulders. He stares at me, cocking his head to the side, causing a lock of his dark hair to flop across his forehead. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his well-worn black jeans, which encase long and powerful legs. He's tall, like he has to duck a lot when he moves through certain places. Then again, a man that size probably commands everything and everyone to clear a path when he moves. Like nothing would dare risk standing in his way. I wonder what that feels like.

I try to get a read on what he's thinking, but his face is blank. He just stands there and stares. Borderline creepy, but he's beautiful, so it's acceptable. Kind of. Not really. Just creepy. A bout of turbulence hits and his impressive frame is barely jarred at all while I could swear we're minutes away from crashing into a mountain. Or an ocean. What are we flying over right now?

"You're scared," he says.

I'm not sure if he's just making an observation or if he's asking a question, but at this point I want him to go away. I try really hard to tell him that, but it only comes out as a whisper. He frowns and steps closer, leaning forward to hear me better.

"What?"

"I don't like your eyes," I blurt. Loudly. I would cover my mouth in hopes of keeping anything else from spewing from it, but with the plane crashing I have to maintain my grip on my seat-the cushion is a flotation device. I stare at him in horrified humiliation, waiting for his response. He stares silently for a few seconds then speaks.

"Why not?"

I expected anger or disbelief. His calm is unnerving, but I feel obligated to answer since I basically insulted him. "There's no warmth to them."

He studies me, but doesn't speak. Finally, he glances around, then leans forward and bares his teeth, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. I flinch and he quickly steps away.

"What the hell was that?" I ask.

"I smiled. Warmth," he mumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Is he blushing? I stare at him in silence as I consider his words. He didn't get insulted when I said I didn't like his eyes. Instead he tried to make them warmer by . . . smiling? That definitely was not a smile. My niece tends to be grumpy from time to time and when we try to get her to smile, she does this thing where she just shows us her teeth. Like he just did. It occurs to me I don't know his first name.

"I'm Calista. You can call me Cali. I would shake your hand, but the plane is unstable."

The corner of his mouth ticks up just as a flight attendant approaches him. The smirk drops and he watches her. A bright smile flashes on her face, no chipped teeth, and she reaches out to touch his arm as she asks if he needs anything. Her name tag says Tabitha. He shakes his arm free then looks to me for an answer.

"Liquor. Strong liquor. Shots. No ice," I tell her. Clearly I've been reduced to monosyllables.

"Whiskey," he declares then drops into the vacant seat next to me. The seat Colin should be occupying.

Tabitha runs a hand through her shoulder length, brown hair as her smile falters, but she quickly plasters it back on and nods.

"Is there anything else you'd like, sir?"

She steps closer to his seat and he leans closer to me. I lean away from him. Why is he even sitting here? He tells her no and after an awkward moment her eyes cut to me. Her lips pucker and she glares at me before turning and moving away. What the hell was that, Tabitha? We watch as she goes to a curtained off section and for a moment I'm plagued by the odd thought that she'll do something to my drink.

"I'm Jayce. It's stable; you're safe," he says and places his hand on top of mine.

It's rough and calloused and exceptionally warm. Most importantly, it actually comforts me. That shouldn't be happening. Red flag. I snatch my hand away, tighten my seatbelt as far as it'll go, then fist my hands in my lap, my nails digging into my palms.

"I have a fiancé. Had a fiancé?" I pause and try to think of how I should reference Colin at this point. "I'm supposed to be getting married in four weeks, but he didn't come, so I'm just going to take a vacation and he'll come in time. He'll decide this wasn't a huge mistake and he really wants to marry me because really, he asked me. It's not like I forced him or anything like that. He should be sitting there where you are, but he didn't even come to the airport. He told me to go home and oh, dear God, kill me now. Why am I telling you all of this? Where the hell is my drink?"

He stares at me as though trying to figure out a response, but he's saved by the reappearance of smiling Tabitha. Why does her smile have to be so damn perfect? I snatch both drinks from her hands and toss them back one after the other. I don't even like liquor. I'm more of a white wine connoisseur, but the dark amber liquid burns so beautifully and the calming effect is almost instant. Unless, of course, you count the coughing fit that immediately follows. "More," I wheeze out as I pass the glasses back to the now shocked-and possibly appalled-Tabitha. Leaning forward I cough some more. Geez, that's strong. A warm palm lands on my back and proceeds to rub gently. He doesn't utter a word. He simply digs those thick fingers in just slightly and offers the little comfort that he can. Who the hell is this man and why is the silence between us so comfortable? I've known him for-I don't even know him! Covering my face with my hands I don't move again until Tabitha returns-smiling-with more drinks. I think I'll call her Smiley-pants.

"You should probably sip," Jayce says.

His voice is downright sinful with the alcohol doing wonderful things to my brain. And those lips . . . geez, those lips.

"You're probably right," I agree. I should keep my wits and not get drunk near a perfect stranger, but screw it. Screw him. Screw Colin. And just for kicks, screw Smiley-pants. Screw it all. Bottoms up, bitches! I gulp down the next two drinks, not even grimacing this time, then open my mouth to ask for more, but little miss Tabby cuts me off.

"Maybe just some soda?" she asks, that annoyingly perfect smile still in place.

Jayce gives her a nod and she rushes away to do his bidding. Pretty sure I hate her and my alcohol addled brain won't even let me figure out why.

"So. Your wedding?" he asks.

Guess we're still on this.

I whip my head in his direction and for a moment there are two of him. If only I were so lucky. I giggle as my vision clears. No! That wouldn't be lucky! That'd be cheating? I'm single now though, right? No!

"Yup! He'll show up. I know he will. I just need to plan it better," I say as I reach under the seat in front of me, fumbling to find my purse. When I find it, I grab my planner-the pink, yellow, and, white one with all the hearts, stars, and glitter, and hold it up for Jayce to see.

"Calista Brenner, planner extraordinaire," I exclaim loudly. I hear a giggle from behind me, but ignore it. Flipping through the pages, I come to a blank one and lean closer to Jayce so he can see what I write. God, he smells good. Citrusy, with hints of wood and warm musk and something else undeniably him. "First and foremost, I probably need to get far, far away from you. Something tells me you're hiding a lady killer under that silky looking beard and that brute exterior," I say as I write.

"Thank you?" he asks.

"Second, I need to get Colin on a freaking plane. He's my soulmate. He can't not marry me, right? I mean why ask if he's not going to do it."

"Your soda, ma'am."

I glance up to see Smiley-pants showing all thirty-two of her teeth. I know I heard her say ma'am, but her eyes are glued to Jayce. I shouldn't be bothered by this, but I am. I look to him and find his eyes glued to me. Well, that's an ego boost. I reach out and grab the soda, twice, because I miss it the first time, then sip it.

"Anything else? Some snacks?

"Nothing else," Jayce says, just as I say "Wine, please."

I frown at him, but he doesn't respond at all. His face remains blank and that bothers me even more. My life is falling apart and he doesn't even care enough to look sad on my behalf. The least he can do is let me drink myself into a coma.

"I'll give you more time to decide," Smiley-pants says.

"More wine," I yell at her retreating back. This service sucks.

"Maybe less yelling," Jayce suggests.

I hear the giggle again and when I look back, I see a teen with an older woman's hand covering her mouth. Good woman.

"Third," I say, focusing back on Jayce and my list, "I may need to seduce him. Although the last few times I tried he wasn't that into it. Maybe that's it. Maybe I need to spice things up a little. I'm sure there are plenty of places to do that at the resort, right? Sex at Niagara Falls seems legit."

I turn to him expectantly and he shakes his head.

"You're drunk. I really don't think you should be making this plan with me," he says.

"You're probably right, but you're here, so . . . Fourth, I need to remind him why he fell in love with me. I need to make him remember why he asked me to marry him," I say.

"Why did you say 'yes?'"

I turn to him, mouth open to respond and . . . nothing. Absolutely nothing comes out. Colin has been pulling away from me for months now. Six months, to be exact. He'd come home from work only to shut himself away in the office to work some more. He wanted to stay in instead of going out for dates. He was there, but he wasn't present. I think back to what he said when he called. He told me to go home to my parents' house. I've been living with him for over a year and the day we're to leave for our wedding he tells me to go back to my parents? Things may not have been perfect, but I feel completely blindsided. This was not a part of the plan. This isn't how it's supposed to be, so I need to fix it. I nod to myself and go back to my list.

"Fifth, I need to make sure we have fun again. I need to stop letting him pull away. I know his job is important and maybe he feels threatened by my success, but I need to make sure he understands that he's more important to me and I would never hold that against him or emasculate him," I say.

"So you're headed to your wedding, right? Jayce asks.

"Right."

"And your fiancé didn't show up?"

"Yeah, but he just had to work, so he'll come later. We have plenty of time."

"Right. Plenty of time. Where are you going?" Jayce asks.

"Emerald Resort & Casino! Beautiful weddings, breathtaking scenery, and a spa to die for! Have you heard of it?"

"You could say that," he says with a shrug.

It seems like more should follow his statement, but nothing does. He just presses those full, delectable looking lips into a firm line and all I want to do is pull them loose. With my teeth. No! It finally occurs to me that maybe I shouldn't be sharing my plan with him, but he came and sat by me, so we're committed. Maybe he just needs a drink. I repeatedly push the call button for Smiley-pants and yell for her to bring more drinks. I bet if Jayce were calling her she'd be here instantly. There's more giggling from behind me. At least someone is happy right now.

It's been four days since I made it to Emerald. I remember Jayce refusing to let go of my hand as we made our way to baggage claim and then dragging me into a town car. My complaints and protest fell on deaf ears, especially the ones about being kidnapped. Seriously, we met on the plane and he said every bit of twenty words while I practically told him my life story and he somehow translated that to mean he could go caveman on me. He ignored me until we arrived at the resort. Then he decided to tell me we were going to the same place. In hindsight, I should've never gotten as drunk as I did. Nor should I have allowed him to manhandle me. I know nothing about him and everything I've seen screams 'dangerous-killer-stalker-man.' In my inebriated state, I just went with it.

Jesus, I told him my whole life story. A total stranger. What the hell was I thinking? Then I decided to just ignore him and focus on all the bright lights, the huge sign declaring the establishment name, and the oversized glass doors of the main entrance. It was dazzling; all brick and smoky glass and a feat of architectural delight. When I tried to say that, the only thing that came out was projectile vomit. Everything after that was a blurry mess. When I woke up the next morning I was safely tucked away in my room. My gorgeously amazing and modernly sleek room that boasted a magnificent crystal chandelier in the dining room, and thanks to me, reeked of vomit.

I had every intention of exploring every inch of this place with Colin, but confined myself to my room instead. We'd decided against the honeymoon suite because it seemed cliché, but we'd decided on one of the 'Ladies' Suites' instead. Thick, gold bedding, inlaid with red threading and soft goose down blanketed the king-sized bed. There were no curtains, but with the push of a button a dark shade slid from the top of the window down to the bottom, blocking the oppressive heat of the sun and the amazing view of one of the infinity pools at the back of the resort.

I spent the majority of my time in that bedroom, buried in that comfortable linen, which probably had some ridiculous thread count, like two million, in a drunken stupor. Breakfast consisted of mimosas, lunch was fruit daiquiris, and dinner was that tomato drink that I can't remember the name of. Today I was informed that Mr. Cranston cut off my alcohol. Stupid, sexy man. The more I drank, the more I began to think that maybe Colin was right about us being a mistake. Why I else would I think the caveman stalker was sexy? I needed alcohol to cope, to not think of Colin as a mistake. Who the hell is Jayce to cut me off and why did they listen to him? After stewing in my room and repeated unanswered calls to Colin, I left looking for a bar. It's New York, right? There has to be a bar around here somewhere.

Entering the elevator, I remember there's a casino and promptly decide to check out that level. From the information I read online, they serve alcohol to the patrons that are gambling. Seems deceptive. Get me drunk and I'll spend more money, right? Actually, that's pretty ingenious.