Fritz shot up from his seat like he'd been electrocuted. He'd been pacing for the past hour, wearing a track in the carpet between the galley and the cockpit, and finally after much persuasion and a little annoyance I managed to get him to sit.
"Did they give us clearance?" he demanded.
"I closed my laptop, Fritz. We didn't receive divine intervention."
"You should call them again."
"The pilot called them ten minutes ago."
"You call them."
I dragged a hand down my face, feeling every one of my thirty-five years. "They're doing everything they can."
"It's not enough." Fritz stopped in front of me, his jaw tight. "She's going into heat, Henry. In our house. With only Etienne."
"I'm aware."
"Are you? Because you're sitting there reading merger documents like we're not in the middle of a crisis. Why the hell did we decide New York was a good idea when she was so close to her heat?"
“We still have a business to run.”
“Fuck the business and stop reading.”
"I'm not reading. I'm trying not to imagine every possible worst-case scenario." I stood, my shoulders tight with tension I couldn't shake. "Pacing won't get us there any faster."
"Neither will sitting."
He had a point.
Leanne appeared from the galley, her professional smile firmly in place despite having dealt with Fritz's demands for the past hour.
"Mr. Hastings, we've been cleared for immediate return to London. We're turning around now."
Relief hit me so hard I had to grip the back of my seat.
"Thank you, Leanne."
She nodded and disappeared back toward the cockpit.
Fritz dropped into his seat, his head falling back. "Finally."
I pulled out my phone and dialed Etienne.
He answered on the second ring. His face filled the screen, hair mussed, eyes bright.
"Henry."
"How is she?"
"She's fine. Her heat subsided for now."
"Is she eating?"
Etienne's eyebrows rose. "Yes, Dad."
"Don't." My jaw tightened. "She needs her energy. Make sure she eats."
"I'm literally making her food right now."
