It’s a short flight across the water to the island and the first thing I notice is that Asani holds my hand like he expects me to be frightened.
It makes me want to pull my hand away from his grip.
I’ve been in planes my entire life, some even smaller than this. I’veflownplanes my entire life, even though I’ve never followed through to get my pilot’s license like Bo and Gunnar. But even before my brothers started flying—and teaching me something every time they took me up—I had always pestered theroyal pilots to let me push the buttons, touch the rudder, let me take the controls for just a minute, please.
I was with Spencer when he took the second flight of his life, when he returned to London for boarding school. He was a frightened seven-year-old, already regretting his decision to go to school away from his family, and I was a four-year-old, cocky with my experience flying in planes.
The cockiness didn’t last long when I realized Spencer was scared.
I made him watch videos with me, and he shared his headphones as we listened to music. I curled up on his shoulder for my nap. I didn’t leave his side until we landed, and then my mother had to physically pull me away because I hadn’t realized Spencer was staying there, that he wouldn’t be coming home with us after the quick visit with the Windsors.
I cried all the way home.
Maybe it’s because my head is full of those memories, but I spend more time talking to the pilot during the flight than Asani. I notice the cameraman doesn’t film that.
I wonder how long it will take before I forget he’s even around. Grayson assured me I would, but I’m very conscious of him.
Or maybe I’m very conscious of Asani.
He’s super polite and attentive, asking questions and listening carefully to everything I say. I wonder if this is nervous behavior for him, or if this is what I can expect if I make Asani my forever guy.
That will take some time—viewing each of the men as a potential person to spend the rest of my life with.
Right now, I’m not convinced about Asani.
“Do you like birds?” he asks after we land and get a tour of the area they call the nursery, where the eggs lie under warm lights, and baby birds get their start in life. After that, we head to the medical area where the injured birds are taken care of. It’s a well-run organization but still loud and slightly chaotic when a gull is brought in with the remains of a plastic bag caught tight around his wing.
“Who doesn’t like them?” I counter. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”
“A surgeon,” he says proudly.
And yet, Asani doesn’t give the injured birds a second glance.
I do like birds. I’m sure I’m not the sort of person that anyone would think of being a birdwatcher, but there’s always been something about watching them fly.
It’s like they’re calling to me to come with them.
I don’t tell Asani that.
But these men took time out of their lives to come on the show. They have given up a lot to take a chance on love.
To take a chance on me.
I thaw slightly. “Why did you decide to come on the show?”
“To find true love.” He smiles.
It’s truly a devasting smile.
We spend a few hours on Miquelon. I like the fresh air and being close to the water. I miss being close to the ocean when I’m in Chicago. And this is my ocean, a little south of Battle Harbour. Rough and wavy, always in motion, the dark blue water suggesting hidden depths, and so much below.
“It looks dangerous,”Asani says as we walk along the water. He’s back to holding my hand again, consistently tugging me away from the waves rolling along the pebble-strewn beach.
I’m not sure if it’s protective of me or he just doesn’t want to get his pants wet.
“You don’t like the ocean?”
“I prefer pools,” he offers.
