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It doesn’t last.
The plane is launched skyward this time with even more violence than before, and I’m being pushed into my seat.
I scream, withdrawing my hands from Aiden’s and clutching the armrests with all my might, as if that could stabilize the plane somehow. If I wasn’t so petrified, I’d laugh.
Oh god! We are going to die!
Despite Aiden’s reassurances, it’s happening.
I’m not ready. I have a new life to bring into the world first. And even then, I can’t die because I’m the only one who can bring up peanut.
Shit, this turbulence can’t be good for the baby.
“Riley, we’re going to be fine,” Aiden says in a comforting voice, trying to reassure me once more.
Yeah, right. He really can’t guarantee that.
The lights in the cabin flash on and off as the plane shakes relentlessly from side to side. My anxious eyes find Aiden’s, and he holds my gaze unwaveringly. Even without touching me this time, the soothing balm he seems to magic up engulfs me. Breath by breath, my heart finds a more natural rhythm and my grip on the seat becomes less forceful.
We sit there, transfixed on each other until, eventually, the shaking eases up.
The captain comes back over the intercoms, sounding surprisingly jovial.
Do none of these men find this turbulence disturbing? My stomach is still quivering and they are completely unaffected. Someone figure that one out.
“Sorry about the little up and down there.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all, but rather excited. God help me, a thrill seeker really shouldn’t fly a plane.
“We just hit the edge of a severe thunderstorm over the wider Atlanta area and all aircrafts are getting diverted to other airports. We’re advised to land in Charlotte. Sorry for the inconvenience, guys.”
That was the edge of the thunderstorm?!
The remaining blood drains from my face.
Shit. We would have never survived flying into it.
But wait… if we’re flying into Charlotte, how are we getting to Atlanta? And when?
Oh no!
This means more time with Aiden.
No way am I spending moregetting-to-know-you timewith him. I’m already battling my attraction to this guy. I need to kick it in the butt… with distance. The sooner the better.
He’s probably going to suggest a stopover. That would be a bad idea. But what else could be done?
“Umm, could we hire a car and drive?” I ask, looking over at Aiden.
He frowns. “Sure, we could do that, but it wouldn’t be much fun driving in this weather. There could be flash flooding.”
“I don’t mind,” I lie. Even driving in a deluge for a few hours has got to be better than the alternative.
“How long does a car trip take?” I ask.
He pulls out his phone and types.
“About three and a half hours if the conditions are good,” he eventually replies. “Which they are not.”
I ignore the last part. It can’t be that bad. By the time we reach Atlanta, the storm will have moved on. I can survive another few hours with Mr. Biceps, right?
