Page 58 of Dear John
“You’re really not,” I admitted. “You’re just trying to make sure everything’s going right.”
We were close to baggage check and got in line behind an elderly couple. “Well, it’s possible that I’m being a little anal because I’m out of work. Maybe I could join your graphic design business.”
My head swiveled to look up at him. “Doing what exactly?”
He shrugged. “Protecting your projects.”
“On a computer,” I said slowly.
“Well, it’s not a perfect idea.”
“Kavanaugh, no offense, but if I had to work with you day in and day out, I’d probably murder you.”
The woman in front of me grunted in agreement.
“I thought you liked me being around.”
“I do, but you need to find a hobby or something.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “And watching me work is not a hobby.”
“Mhmm,” the woman agreed.
Kavanaugh gritted his teeth at the woman and I squeezed his hand, letting him know not to say a word. “You don’t complain when I make you breakfast.”
This time, the man grunted.
“Making me breakfast is very nice.”
“See? You like me being around.”
“But if you found a job or got a hobby, I would still be perfectly capable of making my own breakfast.”
“Mhmm,” the woman agreed.
“Yeah, but you don’t make pancakes the way I do. You know, with the little sprinkles and the heart made of syrup,” he whispered.
“You’re right. I don’t make any of those things. I also don’t run a security check on the entire street while making breakfast.”
“You never do that for me,” the woman hissed at her husband.
The line finally started moving again, giving me a break from the conversation. Or so I thought.
“I’m a cautious guy.”
“You’re paranoid,” I hissed. “Mrs. Dorset is not spying on me when she brings me apples and Mr. Crosby is not really Bing Crosby come back to life in disguise!”
“You don’t know that,” he glared at me.
“And I also know that the kid riding his bike up and down the street is not really scoping out the house for times when I’m most vulnerable. He is literally just a kid on a bike, riding around and having a good time. And he’s taunting you because he knows he can.”
“Yeah? Well—” He snapped his mouth shut and glared at me.
Pretty soon, we were done checking our bags and in line to go through security. Everything was moving so quickly until it was my turn to be scanned. Something beeped and the TSA agent stepped back. “Ma’am, are you wearing any metal?”
I ran my hands over my body, taking note of everything on me. “Nope.”
She ran the wand over me again, this time pursing her lips. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me to be patted down.”
“Go with you?—”