My chest flutters at his meaningful words, but instead of saying something just as nice back, I blurt, “Of course, that’s what assistants are for.” Instantly, I want to eat my words, but I give him a tight smile.
He doesn’t smile back, instead choosing to study my face intently, something unreadable in his expression. I think back through our dinner at Gino’s last week, how Theo explicitly answered my question that I was not attending the gala tonight as his assistant but rather as his date. At first, I had thought he was just saying that, but now, based on the intensity of his gaze, I think he meant every word.
“Do you have much to do on the plane?” I ask him, hoping for a quick change of subject.
“I just have to run through my speech one more time. I can’t believe my mother waited until yesterday to tell me about this,” he grumbles. Then he adds, “Maybe send a few emails, too, but nothing massively urgent.”
I nod my head pensively. “Well, let me know if you need my help.”
He gives me a wry smile. “You’re not working this weekend.”
I shrug a shoulder and then turn away from him, lookingout the window. We pull up to O’Hare, driving around to a private access entrance. We get out of the car, and a few attendants come to pick up our bags. Just like if we were flying commercial, we have to go through security checks before we’re allowed through.
Finally, we load into a golf-cart-like vehicle that takes us through the airport and onto the tarmac. The jet awaits us; the white metal glints off the rising sun. Already I can hear the hum of the engines warming up. I hope my jaw hasn’t gone completely slack out of shock. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful plane in my life. An attendant is waiting for us at the stairs, who bows his head once we pull up.
“Pleasure to see you, Mr. Hurst,” the attendant says once Theo steps out of the golf cart.
Theo gives him a wide smile and holds his hand for a shake. We’re then ushered up the stairs onto the plane. When we settle in our seats, I look around, leaning my head forward and back to try and get a good view of the entire layout. Theo places his hand on my leg, drawing my attention back to him.
He’s watching me in amusement. “Do you need a tour?”
I settle back in my seat and feel my cheeks flush. “Sorry, no. I’ve just never been on a private plane before.”
Theo stands before I can say anything else and holds his hand out. “Let me show you all the bells and whistles.”
I slide my hand into his and let him pull me up and out of my seat. He shows me the main cabin of the plane and all the special features. There is a large table where he could hold meetings in the air if needed. There’s even a large TV that he could connect his tablet or laptop to wirelessly if he needed to view his screen on a larger scale.
He shows me all the hidden compartments and secret nooks. He also points out the lavatory, so I know where tofind it.
“And now, the best part,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. Theo pushes open one final door at the back of the plane, revealing a large, queen-size bed and a private bathroom.
I let go of his hand and step into the private room, walking in a small circle and taking it all in. “This is insane,” I mutter. “I can’t imagine this being my life.”
Theo slides his hands into his pockets. “Trust me, things lose their magic appeal once you live it.”
I nod, understanding where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I can see that happening.” I walk over to the bed and run my hand along the pristine satin duvet. “I bet I could take some pretty incredible naps in this bed, though.”
Theo laughs and shakes his head. “Well, if you get tired during our flight, feel free to come on back here.”
“Really?” I ask him a little too eagerly.
He chuckles again and then holds a hand out for me again. “Absolutely. Let’s stick with our seats for now though.”
When we’re settled back in our seats, a flight attendant swings by to take food and drink orders. I ask for some French Toast and coffee. Theo orders an omelet and two mimosas to go with our breakfasts.
The attendant writes our orders down and informs us she’ll get these for us when we’re in the air. Our flight to New York isn’t long—a little longer than two hours—but a little breakfast sounds perfect.
Theo pulls out his phone again and scrolls through his notes app, reviewing the speech his mother apparently bestowed upon him for this evening. Theo was kind enough to let me take the window seat to watch us take off. I’m peering out the window and watching the crew down on the ground get everything ready for takeoff.
Before too long, the plane starts moving down the runway. As soon as we start accelerating for takeoff, my handflies to Theo’s forearm, gripping it. He glances over at me, but rather than look back at him, I clench my eyes shut, preparing to no longer be on the ground.
Theo removes my hand from his arm but then winds our fingers together. He gives me a reassuring squeeze. Then I feel his lips on my ear, and he whispers, “Relax, Whitney.”
“I can’t.”
“Are you afraid of flying?”
“Apparently.”
