“It wasn’t yours to throw out.” Journey stomps to the doorway and plants a hand on her hip. “What am I supposed to eat now? I’ve been up since three a.m. Eastern and eaten nothing but first-class’s leftover overnight oats.”
“Well, you shouldn’t eat expired cheese.”
I think of yesterday’s grilled cheese sandwich and how it satisfied. Journey needs to be satisfied to save us all. “I made granola,” I offer.
Journey turns on me. “Didn’t you hear me say I already ate oatmeal?”
See if I offer to feed her again. I don’t need my hand bitten off.
She whirls, and I hear the fridge slurp open again. “Whose ramen?”
“Brittany’s.” Sparrow answers without fear. She’s braver than I thought. “But as you already pointed out, you’re not supposed to eat anybody else’s food.”
“My girl won’t mind.” The microwave beeps.
I jump to my feet, roll up my mat, and escape to my room. I don’t want to be a witness in case Brittany does indeed mind. Good luck to any muggers who want to steal Journey’s purse and scratch her retinas.
My gaze slides toward the window. It’s gray out but dry. Perhaps I’ll see if Nathan really meant the offer of taking his dog on a run.
I hope this is the house Nathan pointed out to me. It’s blue with white trim and black shutters, like he said. The roofline makes a perfect triangle over three upstairs windows, a redbrick fireplace sticking out from the middle. The entrance adds character, positioned asymmetrically on the left side under a white archway with an old-fashioned lantern hanging above. The place is surrounded by trees and shrubs, so the leaves must have been raked recently, leaving the small yard cleaner than that of neighboring homes.
I climb a couple of cement steps and knock on the black door. A dog barks, confirming I’ve come to the right place, but now I’m questioning whether this is the right time. Sure Nathan offered, and I am scared to run around here by myself, but after that look he gave me yesterday, I could be leading him on.
I’m not here because I appreciate his attention, am I?
I groan and turn away. We’ll both be better off if he’s not here. What are the chances of a pilot being home anyway? He’s probably flying.
The door behind me clicks. My breath hitches.
I turn to find a man wearing safety goggles, covered in bits of white Sheetrock and balancing a sledgehammer over his shoulder. “Nathan?”
He slides the goggles up, mussing his short hair in all directions but revealing the dark eyes I’ve come to recognize. Today they lack their usual glint of humor. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you.” His tone sounds strangely dry.
I glance past him to find a gorgeous goldie watching us with tail wagging. I smile. At least he’s happy to see me. “Is the offer to walk your dog still good?”
He blinks a couple of times, then steps back, opening the door wide enough for me to enter. The place is a blank canvas. For its age, it offers an unexpectedly open concept. There’s a set of stairs at the back and an island designating the kitchen area. Other than that, there’s nothing but a recliner and television.
“You going for the crew lounge look?”
He chuckles, then studies his own home. “All it needs are a couple of posters about safety and credit cards, huh?”
This is a side I haven’t seen of him. At work he’s perfectly polished. Here he’s rugged. There’s even a bit more scruff on his chin.
I look away, propping my lower back with my hands because they need something to do. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
He shrugs. “I’m just knocking down walls.”
“Where?” There are no walls to knock down.
“Upstairs. I’m turning two bedrooms into a gym since I won’t need them anytime soon.”
I wish we had more bedrooms in my apartment. “No crash pad roommates here?”
“No children.” He looks away.
The sentiment stops me. From the conversations I’ve had on trips, I’ve gathered that most airline crew either don’t want children or come into the industry already having them. Parenting would be extra challenging when being away from home so much. Sadly, it sounds as though Nathan wants kids, but he has nobody to start a family with.
His heart must still be broken over Joey. They’d been engaged. They’d planned a life together. How egotistical of me to think that in just over two weeks he might be more interested in me than in the woman he loved.
