Love Unscripted

“Mr. Christensen, this way,” an airport security officer called out. We followed him through a separate opening in the barriers so we could get in

line to go through the airport security sca

agent who verified that we had seats on an outbound flight.

“Go first, Honey,” Ryan whispered and nudged me ahead. He was looking down at the ground most of the time. I glanced briefly over his

shoulder and noticed that the paparazzi were filming us removing our coats and shoes. Fortunately Mike was blocking them from getting too much

footage of Ryan.

I grabbed a gray plastic tray and tossed my coat and shoes into the bin. I pushed my backpack and small suitcase down the rollers until it met

the rubber belt that fed into the sca

money stuffed in his pockets.

I waited for Ryan and Mike to clear through the metal detector. Airport security escorted us, and instead of leading us towards the gate, we were

ushered through a plain white security door.

“Where are we going?” I whispered to Ryan.

“We’re early. We’re going to the VIP lounge.”

I had never been in a VIP lounge before. It was beautiful! The large room had a high ceiling and was segregated into smaller sections, divided

by walls and full length semi-sheer curtains. The walls were tiled in dark gray slate with stainless steel accents. Each wall had four flat screen TVs

mounted across it, all broadcasting a different news cha

In front of every TV was a cozy decorative chair and table for travelers to sit and relax. There was even a side room with free beverages and a

small food buffet.

Ryan pulled out his phone and turned it on, sca

the airport. This chaos was obviously old-hat for Ryan.

I can’t tell you how many times I flew in and out of this airport and never knew that such a room existed. I stood by the large glass window,

watching the planes take off and land, trying to get my heart rate to stabilize.

Ryan came over and stood behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “How are you doing?” he whispered.

I looked up at him and nodded. “I’m doing fine.” I tried to sound convincing, but deep down I was still rattled.

“Ten more minutes and we’ll head out for our flight,” Ryan said, opening his bag to retrieve my Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat. It made me smile

when he winked and put the cap on his head.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding those Autographers lately,” I said, questioning him.

Ryan nodded. “They make money off of my signature. I’m sick of it.”

A man in a suit, wearing a TSA security ID badge, came into the lounge for us. We were escorted down a long hallway and through another

plain white door that dumped us near our gate.

All the other passengers on our flight to Newark were already boarded onto the plane. Ryan, Mike, and I took our seats up in first class. I made

Ryan sit in the window seat. People were already stretching their necks to see.

The flight to Newark airport was quick and after we landed the airline staff assisted us in exiting the plane.

Airport security had us surrounded as we walked to our next gate. Mike escorted us to our gate, then turned to say goodbye. He was headed to

South Carolina to see family.

“Have a good holiday, Mike!” Ryan patted him on the arm and shook his hand.

“You too, Ryan. Taryn.” Mike gave me a hug.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mike! Thank you for everything!” I hugged him warmly.

“I’ll see you in a week.” Mike tapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Don’t eat too much turkey!”

TSA agents and airport security walked us to our departing flight bound for Pittsburgh. Three young girls ran after us begging for Ryan’s

attention. Ryan graciously stopped to take a picture with them... forever smiling… forever pleasing his fans.

When we landed, we were again escorted by airport security who walked us towards the exit. As we hurried through the terminal, people were

pulling out cameras and cell phones to capture the sight of Ryan Christensen walking through the airport.

I felt Ryan’s hand squeeze mine tighter when we caught sight of his mom and dad standing there waiting for us. All four of us were smiling,

happy to see each other again. Sure enough, a few paparazzi were waiting outside the airport doors.

The afternoon sun was starting to dip in the sky as we approached Ryan’s hometown. He pointed out 12th Street, showing me the infamous hill

where he took the maiden voyage in the laundry basket.

Ryan edged closer to the car door; his hand was reaching for the door handle. I could see the excitement in his eyes and the overwhelming

anticipation he was feeling for being home.

I tried to visualize the neighborhood Ryan grew up in when he talked about it, but no verbal description could compare to seeing it with my own

eyes. The tree-lined street was beautifully tinted with autumn’s different colored leaves, many of which were already in piles on the ground.

The houses on his parents’ street were situated fairly far apart. Each home was set back from the street and had large front yards with plenty of

grass to mow.

We turned onto a long driveway which was lined with trees and simple but tasteful landscaping. Ryan let out a sigh.

His childhood home was beautiful; a two story brick and vinyl home with a large flagstone porch leading up to the front door. The porch eaves

had decorative wooden accents formed to look like archways, and from the center of each arch hung a basket with the remains of green ferns

wilted from the cold.

We parked in front of the two car garage that entered into the side of the house. His father pressed the garage door opener that hung from his

visor. It was apparent that they were used to entering their house through the garage.

Ryan didn’t even make it to the kitchen door – he had to pull the gray car cover up off the front end of his Shelby. The car was a beautiful shade

of sapphire blue with two silver racing stripes from bumper to bumper. It surely was impressive.

“I’ve been ru

Ryan pulled the entire cover off of his car and bunched it up in a pile in the corner of the garage.

“Don’t just leave it lay there! Fold it up!” Bill reprimanded him.

“I will, Dad. Just give me a minute to say hello.” Ryan beamed at his car. “Hello, baby!” He touched the car fender lovingly. “Did you miss me?”

I couldn’t help but smile at Ryan. Boys and their toys! He reached into a cabinet mounted on the wall and pulled out the car keys, unlocking the

doors to his precious car.

He was already hopping in the driver’s seat when his father yelled at him again. “Aren’t you even going to invite Taryn into the house first?”

“I just want to make sure she starts,” Ryan defended.

I held up my hand to his father and tried to dismiss his anger. “It’s all right. Let him start his car. He won’t be able to think of anything else.” I set

my backpack down on the ground next to my suitcase.

A turn of the ignition and his car roared to life. The smile on his face was so huge it was like he died and went to heaven.

“Hop in. Let’s go for a ride,” he yelled over to me.

I ran for the passenger door.

I slipped down into the black leather bucket seat and snapped on my seatbelt. Ryan revved the engine and the car vibrated and purred beneath

us. His long fingers wrapped around the gear shifter with white-knuckled anticipation.