"I'm bored. Pre-flight checks are boring when your captain does them six times each."
The cockpit windows show an orange-pink sunrise over the tarmac, ground crew working around us, perfect flying weather.
The boarding announcement crackles over the intercom. First-class passengers will board in a minute.
My pulse kicks up, my hand flies to my pocket again. The box is still there. Obviously, it's still there. Where would it have gone inthe last ninety seconds? It won't just magically disappear, right? Fuck, I'm a mess.
Ryan is absolutely laughing at me. I can feel it without looking.
What if she missed the flight? What if there was traffic? What if?—
I go to the cockpit door, open it a smidge, and peer through.
Liz appears at the aircraft door, and I forget what I'm supposed to be doing.
God, even after all these years, the sight of her stuns me.
The flight attendant leads her to 2A. She glances into the suite, nods, and steps inside. The privacy door slides half-closed—she never closes it all the way, doesn't like feeling trapped—and she disappears from view.
Perfect. I close the door with a little click.
"You're staring at your girlfriend like a creep."
"Fiancée. Technically."
Ryan's brows furrow. "Wait, you're already engaged?"
"It's complicated. We got engaged at her sister's wedding, but it was … look, it's a long story."
"And today you're...?"
"Doing it properly." I touch my pocket again and take a deep breath. "She deserves a real proposal. One that's just for her. Not in front of her family. Not for show. Just us."
Ryan grins and gives me a two-finger salute. "Good luck, Cap. You're gonna need it based on how nervous you are."
"I'm not nervous."
"Sure. I never realized just how fun it would be to watch you break down." He tries to fist-bump me, which I ignore. "Go get her, Cap. I'll handle things here."
"If anyone asks?—"
"You're ensuring passenger comfort and safety. Very professional. Veryby-the-book."
"Thanks."
The walk from the cockpit to suite 2A is maybe twenty feet, but feels like a marathon.
I've proposed to her before, and that was terrifying.
This is worse, infinitely so.
This is me asking her to marry me for real, not fake, not saving her from her sister. This is me on one knee asking the woman I love to spend her life with me.
Suite 2A. I can see her through the gap—absorbed in her book, completely unaware I'm standing here.
I take a breath, knock softly on the suite frame, and wait.
"Dean? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be flying this thing?"
