He cocks his head and looks at me in surprise. “Vegan Christmas food and strays?” He looks completely shocked.
And I laugh, I know my being a vegan is hard for some people to understand. I’m not strict. I'll break every once in a while if I’m at a friend's house and they accidentally use something with butter or eggs; I don’t make a big deal of it.
“She makes the best cauliflower and broccoli casserole with veganaise and cashew cheese.” I start to wax poetic about all the ways my Gran has adapted our traditional favorites.
Marcel just shakes his head. “Oh, no, no, no, cashews are not cheese. You poor, poor girl.”
“Well, a cow’s breastmilk shouldn’t be either,” I come back.
“We’ll get nowhere with this debate, I’m of French ancestry and we don’t recognize vegans as participating members of society.” He had to be joking.
“And I’m a California transplant and veganism is the wave of the future.” I jut out my chin.
“You are lightheaded because you are hungry,” He dismisses and offers another cookie.
I shake my head and refuse the last cookie. “I’m actually full.” I make a show of rubbing my belly and he laughs.
“You’re too much.” He sets the plate aside and the attendant picks it up.
“Miss Limons,” she says, all chipper and happy. “Would you like me to make your bed for you?”
Make my bed—what? A bed. She has to be joking, I must have heard her wrong.
“Bed?” I ask, because what the heck? Where is the bed?
“Yes, your seat converts into a bed and it’s standard that after the meal is served we offer turndown service in case youwant to sleep. I just need you to stand up for a few minutes and I can do this really quickly for you.
Mr. Dubois your room is ready whenever you are.”
Room?
Is she serious? He has a whole room on this plane?
“Sure, thank you,” he says.
Both Mr. Adonis and I stand up out of our seats and of course my book topples to the floor humiliating me just that touch more. I had abandoned it for It’s a Wonderful Life, since A Hot Christmas Knight is getting me overheated with a real life sex god sitting too close. Also the wine is really doing its thing. I sway a little standing up as the airplane spins, though it’s not spinning, my head is.
“Woah there,” Marcel grabs me as I find my footing.
“Sorry. I don’t drink much,” I say and I’m slurring a little ... shit. I must look like the world’s most complete idiot.
“It only takes a little,” he says softly and holds me as the flight attendant puts my book into the front pocket and turns my seat into a bed effortlessly. She puts up a little partition wall and suddenly my seat is separated from Marcel’s. But it doesn’t matter because he’s going to be moving to a room, I guess.
“Thanks,” I whisper, thanking him for keeping me upright. “So they have rooms on the plane?” I ask, too curious not to.
“Yes, I’ll show you.” He gives me a little squeeze and the attendant is done with my bed.
“Okay. All done. Would you like another blanket? We have pajamas in the toiletries bag with some soap and lotion and other goodies.” Wait, there was a gift bag? Are they joking?
“No. I’m good, thank you,” I tell the attendant who leaves us and then I turn to Marcel. “What toiletry bag?” I ask.
He dips forward and plucks a pretty maroon leather bag from under the book holder in front of my seat.
“This one,” he says and I gently remove myself from his embrace; any longer in his arms and it would be weird.
I take the bag and sit on my newly made bed and open it. Inside is a pair of black pajamas in the softest cotton I’ve ever felt.
“Wow,” I say, pulling out little bottles of lotion, hand sanitizer, perfume, body wash, shampoo and conditioner, a comb, lip balm, eye mask, and ear plugs. “This stuff is amazing and oh, it smells so good,” I say, smelling the perfume.
