I love him enough that I wish I’d given up this job to be with him right now, but as a former ballerina who dropped out of college to join a dance troupe and currently can’t even demonstrate technique in teaching, I don’t have many choices. I mean, I could be a barista, but serving coffee in the sky comes with free flight benefits. So here I am with hopes of a honeymoon in Maui. Though if I’m not transferred home to be based at SFO at the end of the month, the free flights are not worth our time apart.
After stuffing my phone inside the pocket of my company peacoat, I lift my chin to face the world. I won’t delay my journey any longer.
With a deep breath, I merge back into foot traffic, making my way into an open area of ticket counters and winding TSA lines. An escalatorlowers me to baggage claim. I pause at a monitor to check which carousel will spit out the luggage from San Fran.
“I missed my flight.”
The back of my neck prickles at the familiar tone. I’m in a foreign city. No tones should sound familiar. Unless it’s the woman I’d directed to the S terminal.
Glancing over, I spot her plaid jacket. At least she’s on her phone and not talking to me. My stomach still churns in anxiety for her.
“I won’t be able to make the wedding now.”
A groan escapes my lips right as a pilot strides between me and the passenger. He pauses, facing me, and his expression of surprise blocks my view.
“You okay?” Concern darkens his eyes to the color of French roast, but he offers a hopeful smile. And somehow he carries off a clean-cut look even with a five-o’clock shadow. Could be his perfect eyebrows.
“I’m fine.” I lean forward to explain in confidence. “I just overheard a passenger say she was going to miss a wedding.” I nod past him toward the woman on the phone. “I gave her directions to Terminal S, but evidently her plane left without her.”
His head tilts. “Terminal S?”
I scrunch my nose. “I knew she was cutting it close, but I still feel bad.”
He faces me completely, one hand resting on the top of his suitcase handle. His uniform is fancier than mine. Gold stripes line the shoulders of his black sweater, and if that’s not enough, it’s worn over a white button-down and black tie. He also has a thick diver’s watch on his wrist, which I kind of admire. In the age of smartwatches, he’s an analog guy.
“Are you based here?” he questions.
“Yes. It’s my first day in Seattle.” I blow out my breath to get rid of jitters. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well.” He rubs the stubble on his cleft chin. “Had it been your second day, you might have known Terminal S is closed for construction.”
My heart thumps to a stop, and I grip my chest in the same way as a victim of cardiac arrest. “She asked me to point her toward Terminal S. I saw a sign.”
He glances up at the sign nearest us.
I follow his gaze to find the blueS, hard to read once again. It must be purposely colored in to hide it, like camouflage. The Lady Di wannabe is missing a wedding because of me.
“Oh no.” I’ve barely started my new career, yet I’ve already failed this one as well.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” One corner of his mouth quirks up. “She would have had to take a shuttle to get to the temporary remote location, and if she was already running late, it’s not probable she would have made it anyway.”
Though the two of us both wear crew uniforms, he’s the employee passengers should be asking for directions. I only wore mine to get through security with a full-sized bottle of shampoo.
“Hope your day improves.” The pilot nods goodbye, then heads toward the exit.
As soon as he moves, I’m exposed.
The woman ends her call and scans the area.
My stomach churns as if I’m about to get caught doing something wrong. Unfortunately, it’s too late to fix the mistake. My best bet is to escape confrontation.
I trot to catch up with the pilot and use him as a shield from the passenger’s gaze. Then, because I need a disguise to keep from being recognized, I rip my caramel brown hair from its standard bun and shake it free to hang down past my shoulders.
He stops again. “What are you doing?”
I stop with him, digging inside my crossbody bag for sunglasses. There. I slide the tortoiseshell frames up my nose. “I don’t want her to spot me.”
He takes me in. “You do realize it’s October in Seattle, right? Wearing sunglasses in the rain will only make you more conspicuous.”
