“Can it wait until we’re off the giant flying piece of metal?”
He giggled. “Sure.”
We climbed the stairs to the plane, and I felt like jumping into a movie. The plane was smaller than any commercial jet I’d ever been on, but inside, it was… well, extravagant. The seats looked a hundred times more comfortable than any first-class section. Not that I’d know firsthand. I didn’t fly often, and when I did, the idea of paying for first class seemed ridiculous. Why bother when I’d be spending the whole flight internally—and sometimes externally—crying anyway? Might as well save the money.
Chris’ hand rested on my waist as he guided me toward our seats. Carol and the kids settled up front, whispering and laughing like they were in on some big secret. It took me asecond to realize we weren’t stopping with them. We kept moving. I shot him a look.
“Close to the bathroom in case I decide to throw up from anxiety? Smart.”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to throw up.” He definitely didn’t get how bad Ihatedairplanes. “And sitting near the bathroom was strategic, yes,” he admitted, giving my waist the slightest squeeze, “but not for that reason.”
Oh.
I swallowed, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Message received.
The tension between us had been simmering for way too long. Late-night calls every night for the past week; before that, we went almost a month without seeing each other. No wonder I felt like combusting whenever he touched or glanced at me. If I hadn’t been half-asleep when he showed up at my door this morning, I probably would’ve told the kids to wait inside and jumped him in the backseat before we left.
We settled into our seats, and damn, they were as comfortable as they looked. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe a little extra luxury would make this whole hurtling-through-the-sky-in-a-metal-tube thing slightly less terrifying. Chris took my hand, gently squeezed it, and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Then he signaled to one of the flight attendants up front.
“I travel a lot, you know?” he said.
“Yeah, I can imagine.” I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Not when I was stuck in the window seat, forced to watch the guys with the bright orange vests laughing and probably saying, ‘Yep, this plane’s held together with duct tape and prayers. Good luck to them.’
“I’m not the biggest fan of flying myself. But now I takesome steps to make it easier. Would you like to try them?” Chris continued.
I squinted at him. “Depends… is one of them prescription medication?”
He laughed, clearly entertained by my misery. I squeezed his hand in retaliation, digging my nails into his skin. The bastard smiled wider.
“Step one…” he started, as the flight attendant returned, setting two shot glasses of golden liquid on his tray. “Tequila.”
I blinked at him. “Chris, mychildrenare sitting not even ten feet away.”
“It’s just one shot,” he reasoned. “We’re not driving, and I know it takes more than one shot to get you drunk.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but… yeah, okay, fair point. It was a fuck-it kind of day. If I were going to have a meltdown at 30,000 feet, I might as well have a little tequila in my system while I did it. With a resigned sigh, I grabbed the glass and knocked it back in one go. Chris grinned like I’d made him proud before taking his own.
The intercom crackled, and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin with the usual pre-flight spiel.
I swallowed hard. The engines hummed louder. The planes moved.
Fuck.Here we go.
We’d beenin the air for what felt like an eternity, but my watch said thirty minutes. The plane had leveled out, and the terrifying noises had faded into a dull hum. Still, I hadn’t moved. Or breathed properly. Or unclenched a single muscle. I finally turned to Chris, only to find himstaring at me with an expression that looked an awful lot like pain.
Shit.
I followed his gaze down to where my nails were still buried in his hand. Honestly, it was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding. I yanked my hand away immediately.
“I’m sorry…”
He forced out a laugh. “It’s okay.”
He reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and let his hand rest on my cheek. He just… looked at me.
I really,reallywanted to kiss him.
