Isn’t pop just—pop?
“I forgot to say thank you earlier, in the midst of everything else,” I say, unbuttoning my top button.
“For what?”
“Your acceptance speech.”
My eyes well up again like they did at the awards show. I didn’t expect Alexander to dedicate the award to me, and I’d turned into a blubbering mess. Carla even had to give me one of her tissues.
“I meant every word.”
Oh God, I can feel the floodgates about to open.
I wave my hand in front of my eyes and an elderly woman gives me a perplexed look, as if she’s never seen a grown man cry before.
“I bet Avril Lavigne is wondering what the fuck she has to do with all of this.” My attempt at deflecting with humor is the only defense I have left to fight back these tears.
“Don’t! Between that and everyone asking who Betty is, the press and social media are having a field day.” Alexander’s chuckle pushes away my tears.
A warm feeling rises in my chest, knowing that I am said Betty.
An announcement calls for all remaining passengers and I stand up.
“Right, I better go.”
“Okay, safe travels. Message me when you land, okay?”
“I will. Love you.”
I pause for a beat when I realize that’s twice in one night now I’ve said those words, words I’d been unable to say before, but finally allowed myself to. And I realize I do.
I love the way he makes me feel.
The way he looks after me in a way I didn’t think he could or would.
“I love you too.”
Alexander hangs up and I’m left with a warm feeling in my chest and a smile on my face. I’m greeted by a matching smile when the gate agent takes my passport and ticket. She hands it back and tells me to use the second door, which instantly wipes the smile from my face. Like I don’t already know I’m stuck in the back of the plane.
The real shock hits me when I finally take a moment to look at my seat number.
A middle seat.
In economy.
For eleven hours.
And all without an eye mask or sleeping pills. Lord help me.
Monday
“Why does your phone have a UK dial tone? You’re in London and didn’t tell me?” Stephen immediately hits me with questions when I finally answer his call on the long taxi drive from Heathrow to the hospital.
There’s a lot of things I don’t tell him these days, but I bite my tongue. I’d thought about ignoring his call again, but the messages from him had become more erratic since I landed, and I’d rather deal with this now before getting to the hospital.
“My sister’s in labor,” I say matter-of-factly.
“How could you!” Stephen’s tone is indignant.
