I smile my thanks.
She rattles the door open and moves a chalkboard out front to display the specials. Sandwiches, quiche, soup, salads, and snickerdoodles. We move forward to stand in line. What do I want for my birthday meal?
“You feeling better?” Nathan asks.
At first I think he must be able to see past my fake smile and somehow know I’m upset. But then I remember we were talking about my physical well-being. My cold. “Yeah,” I say again, with even less enthusiasm than before.
His eyebrows pinch together. “You don’t sound too sure about that.”
Maybe hecanread me. I shrug it off. “Well, I didn’t get home for my weekend off, then Wyatt was supposed to fly up for my birthday, but he had to work.”
The line moves. Nathan doesn’t. He stares at me with dark eyes of disbelief. After two weeks of serving strangers who only paged me whenthey wanted something and living with roommates who are too busy to really connect, it’s nice to be seen.
“When was your birthday?” Nathan asks.
Oh, he doesn’t know. I haven’t yet confessed to anyone why I’m here. I’ve been trying to act as if it doesn’t matter, but his compassion reminds me it does. I want to cry again, but this time I’m blinking away tears of relief rather than pain.
I press my lips together a couple of times to swallow my emotion before I can safely open them to answer. “Today.”
“What?” He looks a little like Jake in the movieSixteen Candleswhen Molly Ringwald tells him nobody remembered her birthday. He speaks to the lady behind the glass display, as if he wants to order a cake we can light while sitting across from each other on a table. “Our lunch is on me since it’s her birthday. What’s the most expensive thing on your menu?”
His response is totally over the top, which makes me laugh even as I hold out a hand to stop him.
“Uh ...” The worker glances at the chalkboard menu overhead. “Our grilled cheese sandwich has caramelized Walla Walla onions on it.”
Nathan checks with me. “Want a birthday grilled cheese?”
It actually sounds delicious. But maybe that’s just his company. “Yes, and I can pay.”
“Nope.” Nathan pulls his wallet from a pocket. “Anything else? Chips? Soda? Birthday cake?”
“We don’t have birthday cake.”
“Birthday mocha?”
“No thank you.” I’d love a mocha, but I’m allergic to chocolate.
Also, while I’ll let Nathan pay for the sandwiches to make him happy, I’ll pay for our coffees to make Wyatt happy, should he ask.
Now that I realize there’s a chance Nathan could be attracted to me, my behavior must remain above reproach. I wait until he pays for our sandwiches, then step forward to place my order for a mocha and latte.
Nathan frowns playfully down his nose at me. “Hey.”
I hand the employee my ten-dollar bill but grin at Nathan. “Hey.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. Maybe it’s normalthat pilots buy for flight attendants since they make so much more money than we do. I did let Vincent buy my dinner last week, but that feels different. If Nathan were buying for a group or had a wife with him, I might’ve allowed it.
A barista sets our drinks on the counter, so we’re free to take them and find a seat. The room has filled up quickly with stranded passengers. We claim a booth overlooking the gate where the rest of the passengers wait. I didn’t know they made airports this small.
“So how old are you?” Nathan asks the question men aren’t supposed to ask.
I gaze past the passengers out the window toward our plane. It’s a symbol of change in my life. And while I do believe the airlines have a lot to offer, it’s still hard to say goodbye to the life I’d planned. “I’m too young.”
Nathan sets his coffee down. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
I humor him with a sad smile. “I wasn’t supposed to retire from ballet for another ten years.”
“Well.” Nathan lifts his coffee cup, his gaze somber yet celebratory. “Here’s to the first year of your new life.”
