He mischievously narrows his eyes at me one last time before sliding the gold-framed glasses up his Roman nose. He’s cute. Glen Powell inTop Guncute.
Though the glasses hide his expression, I realize my admiration is out there in the open, so I quickly duck behind my ridiculous lenses.
Desiree holds out my phone to me, having also added her phone number while I was staring at Nathan. “Here ya go, baby.” This is one of the few things she’s said to me all day, but at least she’s still calling me baby.
“Thanks.” I busy myself adding photos to our group text as we head toward our hotel for an early bedtime again.
There’s a picture of all of us in front of the Alamo. There’s one with Nathan smirking at me from behind my heart glasses. Then there’s the pic from before he’d put on the glasses, where he’s just glowering.
His glower resembles a smolder, and while in real time it had reminded me of my need for a soda in a sock, looking at it now, I’m once again wondering how Joey could have ever picked another man over him. If we were both available and he looked at me like that, I’d be taking the soda out of the sock to help cool off.
Maybe I won’t send that one to our group. I swipe quickly to see what other snapshots I’d taken.
Photos of the Alamo are interesting but not as beautiful as all the bridges we saw on our cruise tour. One of the bridges even led to a spot nicknamed Proposal Island, where we got to witness a guy down on one knee. We’d cheered for him. We’d cheered again when we passed a wedding in a little shady spot nicknamed Wedding Island.
All this romance makes me want to bring Wyatt down here. He may not be ready for marriage yet, but we could at least add a padlock to Love Lock Bridge.
I tap the Send button to whisk the group photo off to my crew, then open a new message for Wyatt. I’m a little afraid to send him the Wedding Island pics, since we’re in a long-distance relationship and I don’t want to seem pushy. So I send him the group pic and a shot of the cannon instead.
I bought heart glasses and got you a cannon T-shirt.
Dots pop up in immediate response.
I smile at my screen, then glance up to make sure it’s safe to follow my group from the historic stone promenade across the paved road. By the time we take the stairs down to the lush foliage that gives the canal below street level the feel of a rain forest, there’s a message waiting.
Should I be concerned?
I squint in confusion at his words, then look around. My biggest fear so far has been riding a rental scooter into the canal, and according to our cruise tour guide, that’s a valid fear. Tons of scooters are found every year when they drain the water.
I’d been less worried in San Antonio than when I’d arrived in Seattle, though there are some sketchy areas. Construction creates shadows to hide crime, loud music from restaurants could drown out cries for help, and homeless residents are seen weaving in and out of the crowds, free to mug and scratch the retinas of unsuspecting tourists. But none of this has bothered me.
I feel safe with my crew.
Dots.
I grin up at my coworkers, jostling one another and pointing out landmarks. Even if Desiree doesn’t care for me for some reason, she’s still motherly enough to protect me like I’m her bear cub. On our long flight out here, she may have talked to the passengers more than she talked to me, but she also sat me in her jump seat, covered me in a blanket, and gave me a cookie, so I can’t complain.
Could I be imagining her cold shoulder? Perhaps she’s simply giving me a break after how hard I worked yesterday. Short flights are more workfor first class, while long flights are more work for the aft flight attendant, who has to get out a cart and take time to charge passengers for upgraded snacks and beverages. Yeah, that makes sense.
Even now Desiree has hung back with me to let her husband walk ahead with Nathan.
My phone chimes an incoming message.
Your crew is what I’m concerned about. Who’s that guy you bought heart glasses?
Oh no. I laugh at our misunderstanding.
Desiree looks over, all attitude. Must be her mama bear coming out, ready to protect me from a mugger hiding behind the random lemon tree our tour guide told us had sprung up from the seed of a cocktail garnish. Or from a group of careless teens capable of knocking me off a bridge.
“My boyfriend is asking about Nathan in my heart glasses,” I explain, still giggling.
Instead of laughing along, she says, “I’ll bet he is.”
Given how close they are, I assume she knows he’s still in love with his ex. So why does she seem upset? Maybe she doesn’t know I know and is worried I’ll get the wrong idea. “He told me about Joey,” I reassure her.
She snorts her comprehension.
Time to reassure my boyfriend.
