He nods miserably.
“I don’t have a bad impression of you. You’re sweet.”
He gives me the side eye.
I laugh. “You are.”
“And you’re patient and—” He bites his lower lip and stares at me. “Really nice,” he concludes eventually, his voice a little breathy.
“Thank you. Whatwouldhelp you relax? Aside from sex.”
He chokes out a laugh and replies, “Talking. Talking’s good. Thanks.”
Chapter Three
Tyler
The plane is so loud. Every dip, turn, or judder freaks me out. The only thing keeping me even halfway to calm is Emmet’s hand on mine, and his soft, grounding voice. We’ve been in the air for almost an hour, and he hasn’t stopped talking to me. The man is a saint. I’m so lucky to have ended up sitting next to him. The air stewards have served the evening meal. I have to admit, it looks and smells better than I was expecting, but I have no appetite.
“You should eat,” Emmet prompts.
He’s almost finished his meal. All I’ve done is sip water.
I shake my head. If I eat, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up throwing up. I’m not convinced the paper sick bags we’ve all been provided with will do the job they’re intended for. Besides, it would be mortifying to vomit while sitting next to a gorgeous guy. Good looking, kind, and patient. It’s like Emmet stepped off the pages of a romance novel or something.
“Try to eat. Start with the bread.”
Relenting, I sigh, pick up the small bread roll, tear it apart, and nibble on it. It’s plain enough that it helps settle my stomach a little.
“You said it was the first time you’ve been on a plane?” he asks.
I nod.
“It’s the first time you’ve been abroad?”
“Oh, no. I’ve been to France and Amsterdam. The Eurostar is great.”
He chuckles. “It is a pleasant way to travel.”
“I guess I should have tried a short flight first, huh? It’s just… once my parents set the wheels in motion for this trip, I couldn’t pull the brakes.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Oh?”
“We wouldn’t have met if you had.”
My heart flutters. “Ah, but you can’t miss something you don’t know exists.”
“True. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
“The friends you’re staying with are twenty-seven?”
I gaze at him in wonderment. He remembered. “Yeah, about that. Well, Zeke and Rett are. Their husband, Micah, is older.”
Emmet arches an eyebrow.
