Page 158 of Glitched Play

"Pack."

Her response stalls, like my words take an extra second to process. "What?"

"Warm clothes."

"Witt..."

"Comfortable shoes."

She laughs. "You're doing it again."

"What?"

"The mysterious billionaire thing."

"I wasn't aware that was a thing,” I answer because I don’t think I’ve ever gone anywhere because I wanted to since I started the company. For meetings, or research? Yes. For private reasons? Never.

"How many days?"

I finger a silver pink tendril that frames her face.

"One night. Be ready by two."

She studies me. "I have to work. I just got this big promotion, and I can’t let my partner down,” she teases.

“Can I ask where we're going?"

"You may."

She throws her head back and an easy laugh escapes her mouth. “I walked right into that. I should know by now that you answer the questions that are asked.”

I nod, half-smiling.

"Where are we going?"

"West."

Thirty minutes into the flight, she’s asleep beside me on SGI’s Gulfstream, curled against me with her favorite fleece blanket, pulled to her chin with a science fiction book resting upside down across her lap.

The last page she read was page six. She's exhausted. The launch of this year’s e-football league took more out of her than she’s willing to admit.

I tuck the blanket around her shoulder.

She doesn't wake.

People think love is loud—grand gestures and declarations.

I've discovered it's mostly observation.

Knowing she gets cold on airplanes or remembering the page she’s on so she doesn’t have to re-read.

Knowing she pretends she's fine when she's disappointed.

You love quietly.

The flight attendant quietly approaches.

"Would you like dinner served?"