I expect another message. Instead, I get a FaceTime call.
I accept the call and suddenly, Carter is filling my phone screen.
Well. More like Carter’s torso. Hisbaretorso. Something flutters low in my belly at the sight of all that toned skin, but then Carter’s head pops through the top of his t-shirt, and he slides the fabric into place, blocking my view. As soon as I see his face, a knot of tension at the base of my sternum loosens and unwinds. He offers me a warm smile. “Hey, gorgeous.”
My cheeks heat. My brain knows he’s only pretending, but my body is clearly struggling to get the memo. “Hi,” I say, proud of how normal I sound.
“Sorry,” he says, offering me a sheepish grin. “I realized right after I hit call that I should probably put a shirt on.”
I shift and turn my back to the wall of the airplane so there’s no way the kid sitting next to me can see the screen. “What are you doing?” I ask, dropping my voice to a whisper. “What’s happening right now?”
“Put the kid on,” Carter says.
I turn down the volume on the call, glancing at the boy next to me. But he’s still leaning over the aisle talking to his mom. “What?”
“The kid sitting next to you,” Carter says. “I thought I could wish him a happy birthday.”
Of course he does. Because he’s Carter. And this is exactly the kind of thing he would do with his fans.
“Um, okay. Hang on,” I say. I mute the call and set the phone face down on my tray table, then look over at the little boy. “So, listen, if it’s okay with your parents, I’ve got someone on the phone who would like to say hello to you.”
His eyebrows lift. “Who is it?”
I smile. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” I look up at his parents, and they nod their approval, though the dad’s expression is slightly wary, like he can’t quite decide if he should trust me yet. “What’s your name?” I ask the boy.
“Aidan,” he says, and I nod.
I pick the phone back up and say to Carter, “This is Aidan. And this”—I hand the phone over to Aidan—“is Carter Williamson.”
“What’s up, Aidan?” Carter says, his voice warm. “I hear you just had a birthday.”
I make eye contact with Aidan’s parents one more time and smile, then I listen to five minutes of the most adorable conversation I’ve ever heard.
Carter isamazing.Kind. Solicitous. Complimentary of Aidan. He asks him questions about hockey, then really listens, paying attention to every single word, like a ten-year-old’s opinions on the game are vitally important. Eventually, another voice sounds through the line.
“Who are you talking to?” the voice says. It’s similar enough to Carter’s that it has to be Theo.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Aidan says, one hand gripping his hair like he can’t believe what’s happening.
“Hey, Aidan,” Theo says after Carter explains the call. “What’s this I hear about my brother being your favorite?”
“You’re both amazing,” Aidan says. “He’s barely ahead. You’re basically tied!”
“Hey, now,” Carter says. “I liked being your favorite.”
Theo laughs. “It’s all right, Aidan. I’ll let him have the win. He gets so few of them.”
At the front of the plane, the flight attendant motions for me to wrap it up, and I nod.
“Time to say goodbye,” I say loud enough for all participants of the FaceTime call to hear me.
Aidan says his goodbyes, then I take the phone. “That was amazing,” I say, my voice a little quieter.
“It was fun,” Carter says. “Text me when you land?”
I nod. “Okay.”
His eyes shift, and he looks to his left before pulling the phone a little closer. “Fly safe. Love you.”
