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Rhett nodded along, concentrating.
Bridget pulled out her computer. “I’m going to make you some talking points to go over. We’ll cover that, the situation with Kurt, and the whole charity tour. It’s time to get ahead of everything.”
“Okay.”
Kurt. Rhett’s father. He was prepared to talk about the fraud situation on television but not confide in me? That stung a little. Rhett’s eyes cut to mine from across the aisle as if he’d heard my thoughts. I tried to give him a smile, like I wasn’t feeling hurt. How many times had his lips been on mine, but he still couldn’t unburden the trials he was facing? He’d listened to my woes about using TV dads to make up for my lack of a father, held my hair back while I was sick, andstillcouldn’t confide in me. Our connection no longer felt special. It was shallow. I was standing in it and could see the tops of my feet above the water.
I wanted depth, not to be just a fun distraction.
It probably shocked me more than anyone that I had been handed Rhett Myers on a platinum platter to use as a lip-locking time-passer, and it somehow wasn’t enough for me. Apparently my feelings for him had grown—a feat I would have previously believed impossible.
My mother often said that I thrived in tumultuous situations. I could be drifting through a storm in a canoe, and I would still handle the situation with calmness and order. That must have had something to do with why I was so good at handling brides. They were nothing if not tumultuous half the time. But the turbulence of my emotions with Rhett and how badly I wanted to be trusted—reallytrusted, not just take-a-selfie-together-and-not-share-it-with-the-world trust, but confiding-about-his-father’s-fraud trust—was throwing my little canoe into deep waters and unrelenting rain. Something had to change, because I couldn’t last this way much longer.
I pulled out my phone and sent Rhett a text, grateful for the plane’s Wi-Fi, which made it possible.
Me:You seem stressed, and I want to help.
Rhett:You being here is help enough.
Me:That’s what you say to people when you want them to feel like they’re contributing even though they aren’t.
Rhett:Should I expound, then? I like having you within arm’s reach, even if I can’t reach for your hand. I like being able to look at you when I feel like things are spinning out of control. You ground me.
Me:We are thousands of feet in the air, so I don’t want to ground you quite yet.
I peeked at him, satisfied when his lips quirked with a small smile.
Adalyn pulled a makeup bag and a mirror from her bag. She rooted around for mascara and started applying it.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard on my phone. I didn’t want to leave things like that. He’d been sweet, and I’d joked back. But what else was I supposed to say? On the borders of his charming words, it felt like he was placating me a little.
Adalyn dropped her mascara into her bag and pulled out eyeshadow and a brush. “This was a bad idea.”
“Wearing makeup?” I asked.
“No.” She lifted her eyebrows and held her mirror up so she could apply the shadow. “Trying to do it on the plane. My hand is shaky.”
Speaking of grounding. “You can stop the shakes; just anchor your hand.”
She looked at me with a lost expression.
I leaned forward and straightened her pinky finger where it was holding the brush. “Rest it on your cheek while you apply the shadow, and it anchors your hand. You won’t be shaky. It gives you a solid foundation.”
Adalyn obeyed and kept applying the shadow. She was putting far too much in the crease. For a girl with slightly hooded eyes, she needed to put the dark shadow right above her crease or it would disappear. But how much instruction was too much when it was unasked for?
She lifted her gaze. “What else am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re watching me.”
“I’m...tired?”
Adalyn pointed the makeup brush at me. “Just tell me.”
“That color should go above your crease line, not on it. It’ll give your eyes more depth.”
She looked back in the mirror, then did as I said. Yes, I’d been right. It looked much better this way.
