Page 60 of Sour Notes

Thank fuck, realization dawns on Mia, eyes widening in horror as she snatches the vibrator, shuts it off, and shoves it back in her carry-on.

Grabbing her bag, I toss it easily over my shoulder alongside mine and hold out a hand to her.

“Let’s roll, Angel, surely it can’t get any worse.” I grin at her, relieved we can finally get the hell out of the security area and away from TSA Pingu, who’s smirking while staring at her again.

He’s pissing me all the way off.

Mia laughs, grabbing my now clenched fist and dragging me away before I lose my ever-loving shit. “Swayze, don’t jinx it. With our track record, I think we know it can.”

She wasn’t wrong. Where should I start with how much worse it got?

Thanks to the #dickgate delays, by the time we found the rest of our families, they called our flight for boarding, so we had no time to even grab a coffee. Instead, we had to run halfway across the terminal to get to the gate.

We had a stranger sitting between us, who refused to move and kept sniffing the most obnoxious smelling salts. They made Mia so nauseous, I thought we were going to end up having a cleanup in aisle twenty situation.

We hit turbulence, which did absolutely nothing to help Mia, and not gonna lie, if I’d managed to grab that coffee, I’m pretty sure I’d have been wearing it.

Manifest was definitely not the TV show to binge so close to flying, that’s for damn sure.

At this point, I’m pretty sure the trip is cursed.

As if the security issues, the stank ass passenger, and the turbulence weren’t bad enough, you wanna know what the worst part was?

Try spending a ten-hour flight avoiding your girlfriend's mom giving you sex hints. No really. She must have been reading Jackie Collins or some shit because she kept catching my eye with a wink, nodding toward Mia and the back of the plane.

Judging by the look she gave me when we landed, I’ve definitely disappointed her by not whisking Mia off to join the mile high club.

Yeah, Maria. You and me both.

What am I supposed to do with that? Talk about fucking awkward.

I’m not sure why Mia hasn’t told her folks about her job because clearly her mom would have zero issue with it.

Lost in thought, I watch the carousel of suitcases, finally spotting Mia’s dark red case—covered in 3D lips, because even her luggage has to be sexy—and haul it off the belt.

After grabbing the rest of our bags, Mia and I trail behind our family, silently walking toward the taxi stands.

The cab needs to hurry the fuck up because I need a shower, a beer, and to be left alone.

Not necessarily in that order.

14

MIA

“Mimi!” I barely get a second to register my brother's shout before he lifts me straight off the floor in a bear hug.

“Nicholas, put me down you dork.” He laughs, following orders before bringing his forehead to mine.

“You okay with this, sis?” His words are barely audible, concern lacing his green eyes.

Goddammit, I’ve managed to avoid this conversation with him for months. But of course, he knows how I feel. He always fucking knows. It’s the only downside of being a twin. I’ve never even been able to keep a secret from him for long, especially when we’re together. Why did I think this would be any different? He’ll see through all my bullshit.

It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t want to cry because her toxic ex is here.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

Swallowing the swell of emotion clogging my throat, I nod, forcing a smile across my face before throwing my arms around his neck. The move will fool exactly no one, especially my twin, but there's no way I’m letting my prick of an ex ruin Nick’s wedding.