Page 101 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

I pull out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screensaver—a picture of me and Ellie in front of the glass orchard, sunlight shimmering off our pink bottle hanging just beyond her shoulder. My determination digs in.

This is for you, sweets.

I call Bob Hawthorne, my aircraft broker and longtime enabler, who has been taunting me with jets since I first got my pilot’s license. He answers on the second ring.

“Braden. What aircraft do you want to toy with today?”

“I’m done toying around. I want the PC-12 NGX.”

There’s a short silence. “You’re serious?”

“Never been more serious in my life. Let’s get this moving.”

“Well, all right, then. I’ll get the paperwork in order and send it over. She’s a beauty, Seth. Long range, strong as hell, perfect for a man who can’t be bothered with waiting. But I’ve got to admit, after all these years, I never thought I’d see the day. If you don’t mind me asking, what spurred you into action?”

“I finally understand the true value of time.”

After I end the call, the knots in my chest unfurl, making it a little easier to breathe. I thumb out a text to Ellie.

Me: I haven’t even left the ground yet, and I already miss you. Tell Barney to keep my side of the bed warm. I love you.

I hit send, the ache of missing her tightening my chest again. I thumb through my photos, trying to ease the ache, taking us in at the glass orchard and the covered bridge, where we finally unveiled our true hearts. And of my sweet Ellie, dirt-streaked and beautiful, in the cave with her father, and her and Frank standing on a rocky outcropping on one of our hikes, their backs to the camera, sunlight spilling over them. And Ellie with Frank and Becca in Port Hudson, at the gallery with my family, and Ellie sitting on her couch drawing on her tablet with Barney curled up at her feet. Each picture draws me deeper into us and all we’ve become.

I scroll back to the pictures of us at Saint Aurelle: Ellie lying on my boat and another of her in the water, her hazel eyes smiling from behind goggles, wet hair sticking to her shoulders. The two of us walking through town. She’s drawn dozens of pictures of that trip. All the happy moments. But I scroll to the one that twists me up inside. The picture of Ellie’s sketch of me and Noah near the glass orchard that I found after she left the island. The heartache of that morning tramples in, but I don’t try to push it away, because now I know it’s those hard moments, and the happier ones, that have shaped us, on our own and together, until there was no line between what broke us and what made us whole. As with business, without challenges, we wouldn’t learn and grow or become stronger. There would be no certainty that we could handle whatever comes our way.

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ellie and I will make it through whatever life throws at us.

The truth of that thought brings another, more powerful one.

For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be rootless. I just want home, and that’s not a place. It’s Ellie.

“Excuse me, Mr. Braden?”

My heart jolts at the familiar voice. I look up, and Ellie is standing in the aisle, a little breathless, a little unsure, hair tousled, cheeks pink, clutching a glass jar with a pink heart on it against her chest. I launch to my feet. “Ellie? What—how—?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but you fronted your assistant a first-class ticket,” she says sweetly. “She’ll pay you back.”

“Like hell she will.” I pull her in, and the second she’s in my arms, my world resets. “Tell me I’m not hallucinating.” Her laughter coasts shakily across my chest. I hold her tighter, feeling like I’ve been drowning in missing her for a year instead of a day.

When I finally meet her gaze, I can barely find my voice, I have so many questions. “What about your dad?”

“Excuse me, Ms. Nunnally, Mr. Braden, we’re preparing for takeoff,” the flight attendant says apologetically. “You’ll need to take your seats.”

First-class seats are designed to give customers space, and that’s the last thing I want from Ellie. “We need to sit together. What are our options?”

The flight attendant smiles. “Our honeymoon-pair seating is available, but it’s in business class.”

“We’ll take it.”

She nods. “Of course, Mr. Braden. Right this way.”

I grab my computer case, and we follow the flight attendant to the paired seats. “Thank you,” I say. We take our seats, and Ellie and I strap in for the flight, then immediately reach for each other’s hands. “I can’t believe you’re here. What about your father?”

“He’s going to be fine,” she says a little uneasily. “Or at least that’s what he tells me, and what I need to believe.”

My heart hitches, the airline announcements turning to white noise. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Well, Seth, that’s too bad, because I want to be with you, and I want to move forward with our life together, and that takes stepping out of my comfort zone. A lot has happened since this morning, and I’ll tell you about it, but before I forget, Becca said she expects a ticket to visit, or you’ll officially be on the top of her shit list.”