Page 2 of Dearly Departed

It’s as complete as silence gets on a plane. The jet is outfitted with soft leather seats and dark wood accents. It has large portholes and, I’m assuming, more than the average amount of soundproofing. Still, air rushes over the plane, as constant as the hum of the engines, covering us in pleasant, luxurious white noise.

I wish I could enjoy it.

Fleeing from London to have my sister and her in-laws throw us a last-minute wedding was stressful. Noticing that my fiancée had gotten too thin and jumpy was scary. I thought we’d made it past all that, and tonight was about relaxing on the first stage of our journey to whatever highly secure private property or resort Jacob has chosen.

And now this pilot is royally screwing it up.

I angle my knees toward Jacob’s, pressing us closer together and breathing as calmly as I can given the circumstances.

“Okay.” One deep breath, then another. “You don’t have to tell me where we’re supposed to be going, but if we’re going to make it to our reservation, you should probably let me know if there’s, like, an escape plan.”

Jacob’s blue eyes come to mine, and my heart stops panicking for a second to do a flip-flop move that’s more powerful than my first-ever crush. This is not the ideal time to realize that it was on a handsome blond boy who was magnetic and handsome and a senior when I was a freshman and even he, the boy I pined for and languished over and dreamed about, was nothing in comparison to Jacob Chambers.

“Escape plan?” he repeats, sounding defeated.. Not the best idea for salvaging our honeymoon.

I gesture at the front of the plane. “The pilot seems evil.”

Jacob sighs. “That’s not the pilot I hired.”

A strained giggle sneaks out of my mouth. “Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to have hired a psychopath on purpose.”

“I wouldn’t have hired him.” Jacob glances toward the closed cockpit door. “That’s the man who shot me.”

“What?”

“Raymond Harris.” Jacob drops his hand to his lap and meets my eyes, the blue shadowed in the dim overhead light. “He was the guy who shot me when I went to New York.”

“Oh.” The stress lately has been higher than usual, but I’m pretty sure my blood pressure just ratcheted way up. “I think I’m actually going to have a stroke this time. Are you serious? Are you sure?”

My pulse hammers at my temples. All my emotions have come together to force the blood in my body up into my skull, where the pressure makes me want to scream.

“I’m sure,” Jacob says. “Catherine, you weren’t supposed to be here.”

“Where do you keep getting that idea?” I turn to face him even more, the pressure behind my eyes growing. “Did you get hit in the head and lose your memory? Today was our wedding. This is our wedding night. We’re supposed to spend it together.”

“No. You were supposed to spend it safe in New York, and I was⁠—”

“Running off to abandon me? If you didn’t want to get married, you should have just said⁠—”

“I did want to get married!”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?” I burst out. “What do you mean, I was supposed to be safe in New York? I thought this was a surprise! I thought you weren’t lying when you left the hotel room, you just forgot to bring me with you!”

“I didn’t forget,” Jacob shoots back, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was trying to protect you. And the only way I can protect you is if I’m dead.”

My mouth drops open until I regain control of my face and snap it shut, my lower lip wobbling.

“What. The. Fuck, Jacob? You married me in front of everyone so you could come kill yourself?”

“No. Jesus. No. I was going to fake my death.” He rubs his hands over his face. “I was going to disappear, and then you’d get everything. You’d have my name and my money and the Hills to protect you⁠—”

“We have gone over this!” I don’t want to make the murder-pilot come back here because we’re arguing too loud, but this is ridiculous. “I don’t want the Hills. I want you! That’s why I married you. Because I wanted to. And now you’re telling me you’d rather be dead.”

“Catherine, please.” Jacob takes my hands in his. “Please. I don’t want to be dead. These people are always going to be coming after me, and you weren’t supposed to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Too late, I guess. Here I am.”

“Here you are.” Jacob’s shoulders slump. He squeezes my hands, then seems to realize he’s doing it and stops. “Fuck. Here you are.”