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“That sounds great. I could look up flights now if you want?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
I check flight schedules and take out the credit card Cynthia gave me for business travel, booking us both on a six o’clock morning flight to Chicago for this Sunday.
I’ll be spending fifteen hours with Pike that day. Just the thought makes me bite my lip in anticipation.
I shake my head, mentally chastising myself since, hello, I just got divorced today. I need to focus on being Nolan’s mom and making a success of this new career opportunity. So no matter how much I like Pike, I can’t act on it.
Maybe someday we can be more than friends. But not anytime soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Pike
* * *
“Finally,” I say as our plane to Chicago leaves the ground in Vegas, taking off forty minutes later than planned.
Indie doesn’t respond, and when I look over at her, she’s clenching her eyes shut and holding on to the armrests of her seat for dear life.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask her.
An exhale bursts out of her and I realize she was holding her breath.
“I don’t like flying,” she whispers, still squeezing her eyes closed.
“Damn, why didn’t you say anything?” I ask her. “We could have just driven to LA or something. Nothing wrong with the art in LA.”
She lets out another hard exhale. “It’s fine. Flying is part of my job and I have to get used to it. I took a Xanax.”
“Okay, first of all, I’m going to need you to breathe. Like regularly.”
“Just leave me be,” she says softly. “Either we’ll make it and I’ll be fine or we won’t and I’ll be dead.”
“Listen, sunshine, we’ll make it just fine. I fly all the time. As soon as we hit cruising altitude, we’ll order a couple drinks and watch a movie.”
A little growl leaves her throat and it makes me smile. “I’m not drinking at six in the morning, Pike.”
“The fuck you’re not. I’ve never met someone in my life who needs a drink as much as you do right now.”
After a moment of silence, she says, “Fine. A drink might be good.”
“See? A glass of wine and a bag of Corn Nuts and you’ll be feeling great in no time.”
She shakes her head vigorously.
“No wine?” I ask. “Are you thinking of just downing some shots of Jack?”
She unclenches her teeth and says, “No Corn Nuts. They’re bullshit.”
I arch a brow, amused, and ask, “How are Corn Nuts bullshit?”
“They’re not nuts.”
Laughing, I pry her hand from the armrest between us and wrap my hand around it, squeezing gently.
“Squeeze it as hard as you want,” I tell her. “And for fuck’s sake, will you breathe?”
After another hard exhale, she cracks her eyes open and turns to me. “How long ’til we reach cruising altitude?”
“I don’t know, maybe ten or fifteen minutes?”
She groans.
“So what kind of art are we looking for?” I ask, hoping to distract her. “And where are we going first?”
“I thought we’d start downtown. And remember, we don’t have to buy anything you don’t love. This is just an exploratory trip to see what kind of art you like. If you find something, great, but if not, that’s okay, too.”
“Got it. Hey, tell me something about you I don’t already know.”
“Hmm.” The plane hits a pocket of turbulence, and she squeezes my hand like a vise. “Um, I’ve only been on a plane like twice in my life before now.”
“Yeah, that’s not surprising. Tell me something about you that will surprise me.”
After taking another deep breath, in and out, she says, “I got suspended from school in second grade for fighting.”
My mouth drops open in shock. “You?”
She smiles. “I punched David Kramer in the face for giving my friend Jen a titty twister.”
“Well, damn, he deserved it then.”
“Yeah, but his mom was the sister of our assistant principal, so he didn’t get in trouble and I got suspended.”
“That’s bullshit. Didn’t your parents take up for you?”
Indie laughs. “No. I was grounded for three months at home. My parents were mortified.”
“Were they strict?”
She shrugs. “Just very traditional.”
“Where are they now?”
“My mom lives in Fort Lauderdale with her sister. Dad passed away ten years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.” She relaxes her grip a little. “Now I want to hear something about you that will surprise me.”
I lean my head back against the seat, thinking of something she’d like to know. One thing immediately comes to mind, but I don’t want to tell her about it. I try to come up with something else, but then the first thing ends up flying out of my mouth.
“I was in love once. Or I thought I was, anyway.”
“How old were you?”
I sigh softly. “Nineteen. I was playing in the minors in Minnesota. She was in nursing school. Her name was Veronica. But when I got traded, she broke it off. Said she didn’t want a long-distance relationship.”
