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He shows me his backpack. “Just got off my flight with the guys. I saw your flight hadn’t left yet, and I thought I’d come with you if that’s all right?”
Wordlessly, I nod.
“Good.”
“I’ve got a first-class ticket to Kalispell. I’d like to upgrade her ticket to first-class and give her the empty seat next to mine.”
Having Myles next to me on the plane makes everything a lot smoother. I’m finally able to breathe again, and he takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.
After we take off and are airborne for a while, I can’t help but stare at him. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my question.
“How long?”
“How long, what?” Myles asks.
“The first-class ticket,” I whisper, wondering when he decided to make the quick decision without asking me first. He didn’t know I hate flying alone or how nervous I get. Not even Rowan knows my discomfort when traveling alone.
“As soon as the plane landed and I realized I could make the flight with you, I just went for it.”
“You booked a first-class seat this morning?” I rub the back of my neck, not even having the slightest idea what that must have cost him.
Myles nods. “Yeah, I wanted to spend Christmas with you.” He gives me that sheepish smile that tugs at my heart. “Merry Christmas.”
“In Montana?” I laugh, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “It’s going to be freezing, and there’s always tons of snow this time of year. New York would have been better.”
“But you’re not in New York.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I exhale heavily, feeling a comforting sigh escape my lips.
His touch brings me back, soothes me.
“That’s sweet, boyfriend,” I say, assuming he must be doing this because we’re fake dating. Although I’m not sure why he wants to meet my parents. There’s no necessary reason for him to fly all the way to Montana.
He kisses the side of my head. “You need a better nickname for me. Boyfriend isn’t cutting it, Pint Size.”
I scoff at his nickname for me. “I’d rather you call me girlfriend than Pint Size.”
“No can do,” Myles says cheekily. “You’re just super cute and pint size. It fits you perfectly.”
We head to baggage claim, and my parents are both standing there, excited. “Juniper!” Mom says, throwing her arms around me. I give both of my parents a hug. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Myles.”
I hate lying to my parents.
The introductions are formal, polite; my parents offer to let Myles call them by their first names. I grab my luggage and glance at Myles as he wraps an arm around my waist and takes my bag from me. “Let me,” he says, offering to carry my stuff.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he says, and that’s the end of the conversation.
I stand there, waiting for his bag to come out.
“How many bags did you bring?” he asks.
“Just the one. You?”
He points to the backpack slung over his shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly packing for a Christmas trip. Archer grabbed my luggage back in New York.”
Turns out, we’re waiting for nothing. I force a smile, nudging him as we follow my parents to their car. We pile into the SUV, and Myles sits in the back with me, while Dad drives and Mom sits up front. “We’ll need to make a stop on the way home,” I say.
“Sure, what do you need?” Dad asks.
