He laughs under his breath and gives my hand another squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m here right next to you.”
His words are surprisingly reassuring, but he doesn’t say anything else. I keep my eyes shut until my equilibrium feels the plane level out in the air. As soon as everything feels right again, I let out a large breath of air and open my eyes.
Theo is watching me, his lips curled into a sideways smile. “You going to make it?”
I press my lips together, slightly embarrassed, but nod my head. “I think so.”
He gives me a long look. “Glad to hear it.”
Finally feeling brave enough, I look out the window, watching the plane steadily rise over the earth below us. After a while, the attendant brings us our breakfasts. The smell of the hot French toast fills my nose, and my mouth instantly waters. I pour the syrup over the toast and am about to dig in when Theo halts me.
I look up at him, ready to attack him for keeping me from my breakfast, when I see him holding out a champagne flute. “Mimosa?” he asks, handing mine over. He holds his out in a toast when it's in my hand. “Here’s to a lovely weekend with the loveliest woman I know.”
My cheeks warm, and I clink my glass against his before taking a sip. My lips curl into a smile as the bubbly orangedrink hits my taste buds. Turning from me, Theo digs into his breakfast, and I take his lead, cutting a huge piece off and sticking it in my mouth. I nearly moan from the flavor that explodes on my tongue. This has got to be the best French toast I’ve ever had.
Who knew I had to get on a private jet to experience it?
I scarf down the rest in record time, then lean back in my seat, fully satisfied.
And sleepy.
“You can nap if you want,” Theo offers. He doesn’t look up at me, but somehow, he can tell I’m getting increasingly tired as the minutes tick by.
Swiveling around in my chair, I find a comfortable position, propping my elbow on the armrest and resting my chin in my hand. “No, that’s okay,” I murmur before yawning. “I’m good right here.”
My eyes feel heavy, and I can’t help but close them. Theo says something else from far away, but I’m already too far gone to hear it.
The next thing I know, I’m being jolted awake, and an arm wraps around me tightly, holding me in place. I blink my eyes a few times, trying to get rid of the sleep still clouding them. My cheek is pressed against something warm, and my hands are knotted tightly in front of me.
I realize I’m resting against Theo’s chest, and his arm is placed protectively around my waist. I pull away and wipe at my mouth to make sure I wasn’t drooling all over him.
Theo gazes at me warmly once I’m sitting up. “What happened?” I ask. “How long was I out?”
“A little over an hour,” he says before reaching up and brushing a few strands of hair off my forehead. “We just hit some rough turbulence. But you were out like a light.”
“Sorry I fell asleep all over you,” I say with a timid laugh.
“Trust me, it was no inconvenience,” Theo says, his tone hinting that there’s an underlying meaning to his statement.
“How much longer do we have?”
Theo checks his wristwatch. “Probably half an hour, forty-five minutes or so?” Looking back at me, he shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure.”
I settle back in my seat and look out the window. The rest of the flight passes with very few encounters of turbulence. When we land, we’re escorted off the plane and into another cart, which takes us to a black car waiting for us.
The attendants load our luggage into the trunk, and Theo opens the back door, motioning for me to get in first. I slide across the seat, leaving room for Theo to join me. He lands beside me with a softoomphand then leans forward to say something to the driver.
When we pull away from the airport, Theo asks, “Have you been to New York?”
“Once, when I was little, you?” Then I laugh at myself. “That was probably a dumb question, considering this is anannualgala we’re attending this weekend.”
Theo smirks at me. “Not a dumb question. But yes, the gala is held here every year. Growing up, we traveled to New York often for my father’s work. My mom would take us around the city while my dad was in business meetings.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He’s retired now and mostly helps with my mom’s charity. But before, he was a freelance financial advisor. I think that’s where Chase got his love of numbers from,” Theo says with a fond chuckle for his brother.
“Is it just the two of you?” I ask.
