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My eyes bug out of my head as I read the words on my screen. Is Henry Cole sexting me after all? I am unable to think too much about him being hard while lying on the couch with my sleeping sister.

Norah

Plenty of opportunities for that when we’re back in Eastern Standard Time

Henry

I can’t believe this is really happening.

I appreciate that he’s taking my lead and shifting the subject.

I smile. I can’t believe it either. I try to find the closest emoji to a latke, and opt for a potato and a stack of pancakes, sleep finally starting to set in.

Henry

Sleep well, Gold. Tomorrow night in my bed.

Tomorrow, we’ll be back in New York, and then this can really begin.

Chapter 21

Our families take us to O’Hare, but it’s not a tearful goodbye. So many happy, life-changing things have happened on this trip. I hug Kristine just as tightly as my own mom.

“Have a better return flight,” Hannah says with a wink, and Henry shoots her a look, like they’ve got a secret.

“What was that about?” I ask once our families have left and we go to check our bags, but he just smirks at me, dropping a kiss in my hair. “You should know I’m a nightmare to travel with,” I tell him. “I love overpriced pre-packaged salads. I love seven-dollar chocolate chip cookies. And I will buy the trashiest magazine I can find.”

“Plus you like to start drinking early,” he says with a grin.

We step forward to the agent, who checks our IDs and boarding passes as she takes our suitcases. “The lounge is in Terminal 2,” she says with a smile, and Henry nods his thanks.

“What is she talking about?” I ask as we head for security.

“Look at your ticket.”

I open the boarding pass on my phone, which I hadn’t really glanced at since I changed my return flight a week ago. I am now seated in first class. Not some cramped middle seat between two asshole men. First class.

“Henry, I’ve never flown first class.”

“I know,” he says simply.

“How?” I ask, searching for the words.

“I usually fly business. And I wanted you to have a better trip than you did on the way here. Consider it my full apology for that first flight.”

His smile looks uncertain, like he’s not sure if he did the right thing. I reach down and squeeze his hand.

“Thank you.”

We go through the security line, placing our bags and shoes on the conveyor belt, when a thought occurs to me.

“Wait, why were you in a middle seat in economy on the way here?”

Henry flushes. “I missed my flight that morning, so I was on standby. With the holiday, I had to take what I could get.”

“How on earth did you miss a flight?” I ask as we collect our shoes.

He sighs and squints at me, contemplative, like he’s wrestling with whether he should open his mouth. He finishes putting his boots back on and stands before he says, “I knew I was going to be seeing you again, after all this time. And it made me really fucking anxious, because I knew what was coming but you didn’t. I was worried you were going to keep hating me, and the more I thought about that, the more my whole chest ached with regret for how everything went down nine years ago. How I never stopped thinking about it. When I can’t sleep, and the insomnia demons crawl into my head, sometimes it’s something embarrassing I said in a meeting, or something harsh I said to a friend, but most of the time, it was you, that trip and the aftermath, that haunts me.