“What’s with the bagels?” I asked as I registered the happy joy on his face. I’d never looked at a bagel that way before.
“New York bagels are my favorite, and they’re from my favorite bakery, a little mom-and-pop place in Brooklyn,” he smiled. “That was really sweet of her.”
“Is it true? Are New York bagels that much better?”
“I mean, obviously yes, but try for yourself. Let’s see, let me guess what kind of bagel girl you are.” He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a cinnamon raisin one. Holding it up to my head, he made a silly performance of it. “Yep, this is it. You are a cinnamon raisin kind of gal.”
“Got it in one.” Smiling, I leaned over the table to take a bite.
He looked at me, horrified. “Chaos,” he actually stuttered. “Sweet Jesus, no. For these reasons, I call you Chaos. You can’t just bite a bagel like that.” He exaggerated a shudder in his body, like I had committed a mortal sin. “You need creamcheese, holy shit.” And he pulled a container of cream cheese out of the bag.
Laughing, I grabbed the bag from him to take my guess. There were two plains, two everything, and one blueberry. “I think you’re an everything bagel guy. And I say that because you can do … everything,” I chuckled. “Except…”
“Cars. Yes, I know. Now I have to learn, so you can’t hold this over my head for the rest of time,” he chuckled back. “But yes, an everything bagel is my first choice. No contest.”
He took his bagel and meticulously put cream cheese on it like it was a work of art. In my mind, I made a note to put New York bagels on my recipe list. I’m sure I could get close enough. After a few minutes of small talk, he pulled his computer out of his bag.
“I hate to do this, Audra, but I have to get one thing done for work. Is it okay if I work on it? It’ll make our time in New York much more enjoyable if I can get ahead on this one thing. And I promise I’m not the person who works the whole time on vacation or anything, I just need to get this done.”
I cut him off. “Relax, Donovan, I’m not worried. I’ll enjoy my bagel and this entire experience,” I smiled at him, munching on my breakfast as the plane continued to climb. To be honest, I was hoping to have his attention because I wanted someone to share in the giddiness I was feeling, but I understood. Especially if it made the rest of the trip easier. Staring out the window, I watched the world wake up. The sun must have just peeked over the horizon, because the colors of the sky were even more spectacular than when we got on the plane.
Zoning out, I got lost in my thoughts. I couldn’t believe I was on a private airplane barreling to New York for forty-eight hours. That I even said yes to this hare-brained idea. Who was I?Plus, now that we had crossed the line, would I be able to doanything over the next two days besides try to get in his pants?The fleeting thought of him driving into me had my body reacting already. How was I going to keep my hands off him? I glanced at him, and he looked amazing in his casual clothes. Jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a dark gray sweater that accentuated his broad shoulders. I felt good in the new threads I was wearing too. Dark jeans and a cream-colored flowy blouse looked like something that a person who took a private jet would wear. This whole experience was really something else.How the other side lived.
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” his voice interrupted my thoughts.
Snapping my eyes to him, I felt my cheeks burn as he gave me a curious half-smile.
“You’re supposed to be working, not being distracted by me. It’s been like five minutes,” I laughed.
“Yes, but I admit, it’s nothing but distracting with you sitting across from me. There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my eyes to myself.” That half smile turned into a full-blown grin, and he looked at me as if he was trying to decide something. “Trying to work was a bad idea,” he finally said as he shut his computer, got up to sit in the seat next to me, and put his hand on my thigh. “What do you think? Is it too early to have a glass of bubbly? Would you think less of me if we had our first drink at”—he looked at his watch—“6:27 in the morning? You know, to celebrate this impromptu trip and maybe the last twelve hours? If they have it, does a rose champagne sound okay?”
“Does anyone say no to that?” I laughed because, although we were far from our kegs and eggs days, I didn’t see harm in a small glass to clink to. It might be the only time I would ever fly on a private plane, so I should liveit up, right?
He called the stewardess over. “Molly, do we have Mailly L’Intermporelle Rose Grand Cru?” She nodded yes. “Can you please pour two glasses for us?” I noticed her note the way we were now sitting next to each other.
“Of course, Mr. Wright,” she answered, then disappeared into the back. I didn’t even understand what he said, but it sure sounded fancy. Honestly, I didn’t even know that champagne differed from sparkling wine. Cora is the one who explained it to me, and that was just last year. The flight attendant brought over two beautiful glasses filled with light pink bubbly, and I knew I had a stupid grin on my face. She put them down on the table, and Donovan grabbed his and held it up in the air. My flute joined his. “To the first of many, Audra King,” he said, and he tinked my glass. I took a tentative sip as champagne wasn’t my favorite, but this was like nothing I had ever tasted before. Although I always read the backs of wine and liquor bottles for the outlandish descriptions like ‘buttery apple skin finishes’ or ‘velvety rainforest dirt at the nose,’ I would bet money that what we drank on the plane matched the description exactly. I understood the hype behind champagne now; this pink drink undoubtedly danced across my tongue.
“Donovan, oh my God, this is remarkable. I mean, I know I’ve never tasted champagne as good as this.”
“Glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites when I have to drink champagne. My sister always laughed that this is what I stocked in the jet because it’s pink. I can’t believe she stocked this for me, too. That was thoughtful of her.”
“Thoughtfulness must run in the family then, because you’re one of the most thoughtful people I know,” I warmly smiled at him. “How often do you fly on this?”
“Well, I don’t anymore.” He hesitated, unsure of what to say next. “I haven’t seen my parents in years. Since I turnedtwenty-five, actually. But yes, this is how I used to get around the world doing crazy things.”
“Oh,” I said, waiting for him to continue. How old was he again? I think he said it at darts. Twenty-Eight? So he hadn’t seen his parents in three years? Yikes. I wondered what happened. So maybe it was a horrible split and estrangement after all. Thankfully, he kept going.
“We didn’t see eye-to-eye on things, and I took off. Life is better for me without them around. Let’s just say they weren’t exactly shining examples of what parents should be.” He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip, though I felt bad that the whole mood on the plane shifted a bit. It sounded like this incredibly successful, kind-hearted, wonderful man may have had to deal with some shit growing up.
He was still sitting next to me, so I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder.
“I know we don’t know each other too well, but I’m confident when I say, screw them. You’re pretty amazing, Donovan, and they are most assuredly missing out.”
At that, he grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. I closed my eyes and took it in. Private plane, pink champagne, D on the brain. Donovan, not dick of course. I mean, okay, maybe a double D.
“What about your parents? What’s their story?” He asked as he kissed those interlaced fingers.
“Oof-that’s a…” I didn’t know how to answer that. How deep were we getting here? He didn’t really give me anything besides that his parents sucked, but I suppose it didn’t do me any favors holding back.
