Page 73 of Meant to be Mine

“Let me guess, caviar?”

“I could have someone run out and pick some up if you want it.”

“No! I forget you’re still a spoiled little rich kid.”

“Not so little,” he said, his voice dropping to that deep timber that sent shivers rolling through my body.

A flight attendant appeared and asked what we’d like to drink. Drew looked at me.

I shrugged. I had no idea what the right answer was.

“Two mimosas,” he replied.

I made a show of looking at my watch. “You have a meeting in two hours.”

“Three and trust me, a single mimosa isn’t going to leave me shitfaced.”

I settled back into the seat. The engines fired up and the plane began to move. A minute after the plane leveled out, the flight attendant returned with two mimosas and promptly disappeared. It was a small plane and I did wonder where she could be hiding.

“So what’s this meeting?” I asked, once we’d leveled out and the sky outside was a flat, brilliant blue.

He made a face. “Tech people.”

“Tech people,” I repeated. “Be more specific.”

“There’s a company based in the Financial District. They want to be involved in the Sidewalk Sale. Display space, branding, that kind of thing. They’ve got a product that’s adjacent to fashion in a very loose interpretation of the word and they want the association with Blackwell.” He sipped his drink. “And they want to talk about sponsorship money.”

“How much money?”

“Enough that it’s worth three hours of my life.”

“I see. Why do it in person?”

“Because tech bros like to feel important,” he said. “They want to shake hands and have the meeting and take a picture for LinkedIn. That’s what I’m providing.”

“You’re a prop.”

“Yep. But it breeds money. After the meeting, we have the rest of the day. And tomorrow morning before the afternoon flight back.”

“What are we doing?”

“Whatever we want.” He leaned back. “That’s the whole point.”

Whatever we want. When was the last time I’d had that? A day with no agenda and no obligation.

“If we had more time,” he said. “I would have driven you up.”

“Yeah?”

“We would have stopped everywhere. There are these little towns along the way. Cambria. Big Sur. Carmel. I’ve never stopped thinking about our plans.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do it already.”

“No way,” he said. “Not without you.”

The attendant returned with the promised snacks, setting down a tray that looked like it belonged at a wedding, not on an airplane. There was a perfect charcuterie board with three different cured meats, at least four cheeses, with delicate crackers. A ring of grapes with a dish of almonds in the center. There was a dish of honey with the cute little wooden thing.

I looked at Drew and tried to keep my face from expressing the disbelief I felt. “You were not kidding about the snacks.”