I nod. “Or asked for forgiveness.”
“Yeah. Because I’m the other woman.” Angel balls her fists and growls.
Ha-Yoon strolls in. “What happened? Did you not get your transfer request?”
Transfers. Oh goodness, it’s October 27. How could I have forgotten?
My pulse revs. I grab my phone and log in to the Premier Air employee website.
Angel drops into the seat across from me this time. “No. I just found out the pilot I’m dating is married.”
Sparrow pops out. “Adultery was against the law in South Korea until recently.”
Ha-Yoon crosses her arms. “I didn’t even know that.”
“It should still be illegal.” Angel groans. “I thought I was a good person, but I did things that are going to cause someone else a lot of pain.”
A list of all the transfers awarded appears on my screen. Employee numbers line the left side. I scroll down. My number isn’t there. To be sure, I look for my name in the next column. Nada.
My heart plummets. I’m stuck in Seattle for another month or more. Who knows how long?
I click on the column marked “Awarded Positions.” Looks like nobody got SFO. When will they open the base back up for transfers again?
Ha-Yoon sits on the arm of Angel’s chair. “Are you working any upcoming trips with your pilot?”
“I picked up a trip next week.” Angel throws her head back and arms wide. “I’m totally dropping it now, but that’s so unfair. I’d been looking forward to an overnight in Miami.”
Sparrow hasn’t retreated yet and is thus prepared for such a moment.“You don’t want to go to Miami. It’s one of the worst cities for bedbugs, and the hotel where our crews stay just had to be treated.”
“Eww.” Brittany sits at the dining table behind us with a bottle of nail polish, evidently planning to give herself a manicure while she awaits the quiche. “You’d better not bring bedbugs back here, Angel.”
Angel narrows her eyes. “I hope John gets bedbugs.”
I shift, feeling itchy all of a sudden. And not only because I’m stuck in this crash pad for the next month. It sounds as though things could be more uncomfortable than expected, no matter where my new career takes me. “I thought bedbugs were simply made up for that nursery rhyme.”
“Nope.” Journey appears with one of my granola bars in hand. Good thing Vivienne is making me something else to eat. “Don’t ever put your suitcase on a hotel bed.”
The Girls dance into the room. “We’re transferring to New York,” they sing.
That’sthe reason for their earlier screaming. Not quiche—the Big Apple.
Angel stares blankly at the ceiling. “Maybe I will too.”
The Girls squeal. “Really?” one asks.
“No, not really,” I answer for her. “Angel just needs some time to process her life circumstances and future goals.” As do we all.
I personally would prefer more peace and quiet for contemplating. I push forward gingerly. My broken toe is now protected by the walking boot, but it throbs when I put too much pressure on my bad foot. “I’m going to the bedroom to call Wyatt and let him know I’m not moving back to San Francisco this month.”
Angel looks up at that. “Oh no, you didn’t get transferred?” How sweet that she cares about me in the midst of her trauma.
I shake my head, glancing away so she doesn’t notice the depths of my disappointment and offer the kind of compassion that would be sure to draw mascara streaks down my own cheeks. But she grabs my hand as I pass, so I bite my lip and give her a brave smile.
“I’m sad for you but glad for me. Let’s make the most of this next month while we’re both here.”
And in our exchange, I’m reminded that Nathan claimed I’m here for a reason. Maybe Angel is my reason. I’m the one who gave her the devastating news, and now I’m the one who can help her heal. “I’d love that.”
I squeeze her hand, then limp into the bedroom, close my door to the chaos outside, and take a deep breath. Thirty more days of this. At least.
