Page 83 of All Bets Are Off

I turn now, my head held high, and descend the steps toward the Uber. I climb into the back seat and slam the door behind me. As the car begins to roll down the street, I look back out of the rearview window, and there’s Liam Hartman, on his knees on the ground, watching me walk away from the sad life of misery he had to offer.

35

Hailey

Harry Reid International Airport is a rough place to be at six-thirty on a Monday morning. Most travelers are tired, hungover, and poorer than when they first arrived in Las Vegas. It’s like being in a zombie apocalypse, the way everyone moves soullessly through the terminal—except Theo. Theodore Sinclair, as always, is full of energy. He parades through the airport with a confident swagger, a gorgeous smile on his face, and wearing those same grey sweatpants from the other night that are so drool-inducing. I won’t lie, it was immensely stressful in the moment when he was arrested last night, but now that he’s free . . . Well, I find it kind of hot, even though he’s not exactly a hardened criminal.

“Have you seen your mugshot?” I ask him as we line up at security. He hoists my suitcase up onto the conveyer belt and looks at me with a skeptically raised brow. “It’s online. Look.” I hold out my phone with his mugshot blown up on my screen, biting back my laughter. “Can I frame this on my refrigerator?”

“Hails, I am grumpy in that photo. I was in jail,” Theo says, rolling his eyes as he drops his duffel bag onto the belt, too. He takes my phone from my hand and places it into a tray. “But yes, you can frame it.”

I let my laugh out and follow him through the body scanners. On the other side of the X-ray machine, a TSA agent plucks Theo’s bag off the belt for further checks. We meander over and claim it.

“Hmm,” the TSA agent says, a blushing smile on his face as he examines the X-ray image of Theo’s bag on his screen. “I think I know exactly what those are, but I need to quickly check them over.”

I lean forward to steal a curious peek at the screen. There is the unmistakable outline of a pair of handcuffs. The agent unzips Theo’s bag and dangles the fluffy pink handcuffs from his gloved hand, trying to remain professional, but fighting for his life to stifle laughter.

“Theo,” I hiss, because I never imagined I’d be standing in public, having a raunchy pair of handcuffs waved in front of me.

With a smile, the agent tucks the cuffs back into Theo’s bag and zips it shut. “Good to go.”

As Theo slings his bag over his shoulder, I punch him in his bicep. “You kept those?!”

“You seriously didn’t think I’d be leaving those behind, did you? They’re part of our story now, Hails,” he says with a wink, and he takes my suitcase from me again, carting it through the departure lounge toward our gate. “And you never know . . . Maybe there will come a time when we’ll be glad we have them at our disposal.”

I roll my eyes as though it’s an absolutely appalling idea, but . . . Handcuffed? In bed? With Theo? Naked? Yeah, I’d be down with that.

When we reach our gate, we see that John and Tyler have already beaten us there. Tyler’s slouched in a chair, asleep, and John sits next to him with headphones on, watching videos on his phone. We sit down opposite them and I glance around, scanning our surroundings. No Evie, no Addy.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” I ask Theo, frowning.

Evie promised she’d ride to the airport with Jameson and meet us here, but there’s no sign of her yet. And Addy . . . I’m not sure whether to expect her on her own or with Liam by her side. We board in forty-five minutes, so there’s still plenty of time.

I sit back, refreshing my emails again. I am very aware it is officially Monday. Today is the day I find out if all of my effort this weekend was even worth the trouble. New York is three hours ahead, so I know Samantha will already be at work in her agency’s office.

I text her, asking if she’s heard anything yet.

To my surprise, my phone immediately lights up with her name. She’s calling me.

“Theo,” I gasp, clutching his arm as I bolt forward in my seat. “It’s my agent. She’s calling me. Oh my gosh. She’s calling me this early! That means it’s a rejection, doesn’t it? There’s no way they’ve made an offer already.”

“Instead of deliberating what your agent will or won’t say,” Theo says gently with an encouraging smile, “how about you just answer the call and find out?”

“Right. Yes. Okay.” My heart races at a million miles an hour. I swipe to answer the call, then press the phone to my ear. “Sam, I’m scared.”

“I just got your text. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

“Early flight. I’m at the airport,” I explain, then lower my voice, almost like I’m too embarrassed for Theo to hear me say it. “Hutchison Press don’t want my book, do they?”

There’s a long pause, and my heart sinks all the way into my stomach.

“Hailey, how long until your flight boards?” Sam asks calmly.

My features twist, confused. “Forty minutes . . . Why?”

“The moment you board and sit down in your seat,” Sam says, and I hear a smile edging into her voice, “ask the flight attendant to pour you a glass of champagne.”

My hand grips my phone tighter. My brain takes a moment to process the information she’s giving me. I look at Theo, who’s listening eagerly. “You . . . You mean . . .?” I splutter into the phone, because I simply cannot form words.