Probably not.
The gate agent scans our boarding passes, and I trail Sofía down the gangway, settling into the seat beside her, nerves chewing at my stomach.
A thousand different things to say fly across my mind, but none of them are right. She steals glances, a perpetual crinkle to her brow as we take off. I throw myself into my work, editing a few clips of Ole Hank for the docuseries, and she works on the logistics for the premiere in a few weeks.
Besides asking for my input on the tablecloth colors—I couldn’t give a fuck—she says nothing. All I want is to touch her, to take her hand between mine and swipe my thumb over the scar on the side of her palm, a burn from a curling iron that never quite faded.
Dinner is served, and she watchesCrazy Rich Asians.I watch her, digging and searching for the words I want to say when we land, and how I want to ask her if she’s open to more.
We haven’t spoken about the inevitable ending of our deal, but it’s a living thing between us.
“I posted on your story,” she finally says, snapping my attention from my computer. “I think that will be enough to allow the PR relationship to fizzle.”
The words tighten around my heart like barbed wire—cutting, squeezing,eviscerating.
She offers her phone, and the photo is of us, standing on the top deck of the liveaboard, the golden sunrise hiding ourfeatures. Sofía has her head rested on my shoulder as we face the ocean. This is the moment it all changed for me. And now it’s being used as the photo to end what’s going on between us.
In small text above the sunrise, it reads, “What happens Down Under, stays there.”
I hand her back the phone, unable to look her in the eye. “Great.”
She stares at me. “Do you not like the photo? I can choose another one. I thought it was nice…you know, with the sunrise.”
“It’s a nice photo,” I reassure her. “The post is…great.” The word tastes like dirt on my tongue. “I’m going to stretch my legs,” I tell her, bolting to the back of the plane to pace the galley.
I tug on the strands of my hair, mind running a mile a minute. The flight attendant, Janet, gives me an odd look as I mumble all the reasons this was a terrible idea. She raises a questioning brow, and I offer her a sheepish smile.
“I fell in love with a girl, and I think I’m going to get my heart broken when this plane lands,” I tell her, a total stranger who does not need any of this information about my life.
A soft smile flickers across her face. “People usually come back here for a snack,” she replies, offering me a granola bar. “Eat. It might help the whole anxious-pacing thing you’ve got going on.”
The food churns in my stomach, but I do as I’m told and eat the snack and sip on the ginger ale she pours. After a few deep breaths, the anxiety mellows to a soft trickle rather than a downpour, giving me the courage to return to my seat.
Sofía scans me, nibbling on her lower lip. The napkin in her hand is folded into a tiny triangle, and she undoes her work before starting again.
“Did you want to go over the plan for when we get back?”
My pulse stops. “The plan?”
Does she mean our deal?
“For the premiere. The editing timelines. Logistics. Tickets.”
Oh. This isn’t about us at all. I try to disguise my disappointment, and my flight attendant friend from the galley appears beside us.
“Can I get you two anything?” Janet asks, quirking a brow at me. I shake my head frantically when Sofía’s turned away, and the flight attendant grins. “How about some champagne for you and your…fiancé?”
I witness the panic and horror that flies across Sofía’s face, and I want to melt into the fake-leather seat.
We’re not even dating, I almost blurt out.I want to, but I don’t know where she stands. But we are most definitelynotengaged.
Fourteen hours over the Pacific Ocean is hardly enough time to muster the courage to tell her I’d like something more than a few weeks of playing pretend. If we get past that, it would take me a long time to find the strength to propose.
I want that life with her, though. One where I end up on one knee. A version where she says yes. A wedding that rivals the one inElla Enchanted,her favorite movie, even if falling in love in a day is unrealistic to her.
Truthfully, I’ve been falling for her since the day we met at RogueWave. She walked through the door, confident and beautiful. Even if this leads nowhere, it’s been an honor to love her, and I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life.
Sofía recovers faster than I do. “That would be lovely,” she says, her cheeks a deep red, even in the low cabin light.
