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“Why do you have a lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer who I can call when I get into trouble. Why do you?”
I sigh and look down the aisle to where our flight attendant is preparing our coffee. Hurry up, man, I’m going to need it to survive this flight.
My legs start bouncing up and down, and my heart races—all the familiar signs of a craving starting. Now, I really want that coffee.
“Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. King.” We are both handed our coffees, and I grip mine like it’s the only thing keeping me from raiding the liquor cabinet for bourbon, my liquor of choice.
“Thank you,” Millie says brightly when I don’t say anything. Our flight attendant returns my smile and leaves us.
“Are you rude to everyone like that?” she asks.
“I wasn’t rude.” I grip my cup tighter.
“Yes, you were. And now the vein in your forehead is popping out. The one that pops out when you’re mad.”
I shake my head. “Can you stop overanalyzing me so we can talk about our situation, and then I can put my headphones on and spend the rest of my flight watching the latest Fast and Furious movie?”
She makes a disgusted face.
“Really? You don’t like Fast and Furious? It’s like we weren’t meant to spend the rest of our lives together.”
She chews on her bottom lip.
“What? Spit it out.”
“Um…I just don’t want to get lawyers involved.”
I sip on my coffee again.
Millie puts her hand on my forearm like she’s trying to calm me, which only makes my breath fly. I glance at the couple sitting next to us, sipping mimosas and enjoying life. And suddenly, I want a mimosa.
No, it’s just the addiction talking. I don’t want a damn mimosa.
I turn back to Millie.
“You can’t be serious?”
Millie looks at me nervously—she’s serious.
“I told you I’d pay for legal fees. That includes your legal fees.” There is no way I can get this annulled or even divorced without a lawyer. Kade would kill me. I don’t know if I should trust Millie or not yet, but if she finds out how big my bank account is before the annulment or divorce goes through, I’m going to be out a lot of money. Not that I care, but I’m not going to let a complete stranger take half my money.
“It’s not that…” Millie looks out the window like
she’s lost in thought as she once again mumbles under her breath, talking to herself. If I didn’t work with mentally ill people all day, if I wasn’t mentally unstable myself, I might think Millie is losing it.
I let her be for a moment, even though I want to quiz her about what’s going on in her head. The flight attendant collects our mugs, and then we are asked to turn off our cell phones before takeoff.
Millie turns hers off like she can’t turn it off fast enough and then practically throws it into her backpack. I assume that Oaklee or our friends have been texting her with a million questions about our relationship the same way my friends have been.
Then we are taking off, my fingers now dancing on the armrest.
Millie stares at them. And I think she’s going to ask another question about why I’m behaving this way. I’m sure she’ll find out I’m a recovering alcoholic at some point, but I’m not in the mood to share my life story right now.
Instead of asking a question, though, Millie simply takes my hand and holds it. I stare at our interlocked fingers that just fit together, and I feel calmer and electric at the same time. Like I’ve just been plugged into an outlet, and I’m charged, ready to fire but also grounded at the same time.
The plane begins to take off, and Millie squeezes my hand three times like she did with Oaklee. I realize that she must assume I’m a nervous flyer.
“What does that mean when you squeeze my hand three times? I saw you do it with Oaklee.”
