Page 50 of Last First Date

21

WAVERLY

Itossed the last of my things into my suitcase and dragged it out to my car. I found myself taking one last look at my townhouse just in case I was one of the unlucky few that didn’t get to come home.

I hated flying. Even after all my experience traveling with Knox’s grandfather, I never really got used to the idea of being trapped in a metal tube with nothing holding it up but physics—which also wasn’t my forte. If God wanted me flying twenty-thousand feet above the earth, he would have given me wings.

I didn’t have wings.

I reassured myself by counting the number of trips Richard and I had been on in the plane. We came back every time. At least with the private plane, we knew the pilot. There wasn’t any risk the guy was going to be exhausted after days of flying long trips back and forth across the world.

If only Richard was here to reassure me. He’d always been good at that.

The airport was small. I dragged my suitcase behind me with the garment bag I bought for this trip draped over the top. When I walked into the airport, Knox was already there, pacing back and forth as he talked on the phone.

I stood back and waited, unsure what else to do. He spotted me, gave me a slight wave, and then held up a finger to let me know to wait. I had cotton mouth. My nerves were going to get the best of me. If he made me wait much longer, I was going to lose my nerve to get on the plane.

“Ready?” Knox asked.

“Yes.”

He frowned and studied my face. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You look pale. And sweaty. And weird.”

“Thank you, Knox,” I muttered. “Your compliments are always a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m serious,” he said with more concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, his hard expression softening a bit. “Hey, for real, what’s going on?”

“I hate flying,” I confessed.

“Really?”

“No. I think I hate flying.”

“You think you hate flying?” he questioned with confusion.

“I was being sarcastic,” I sighed.

His face lit up. “It’s safe. And say the worst happens. At least you’re going down in the lap of luxury.”

“Thanks. That helps.”

He chuckled. “The plane is top of the line. My grandfather has it maintained regularly. Come on, you’re going to like this. You’re not going to be sandwiched in with two hundred strangers. You’ll have plenty of leg room and there won’t be any weird smells.”

“Weird smells?” I questioned.

“Two-hundred people you’ve never met packed into a tin can tends to produce some funky smells,” he said, laughing.

Weird smells never killed anybody, I thought. But plunging twenty thousand feet into the ocean sure has.

My bags were quickly taken and loaded onto the plane. Knox gestured for me to walk ahead of him up the small stairs. I climbed up and was pleasantly surprised to see the inside of the plane.