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I call her a few times (more than a few) hoping she will pick up. After the eighth time, it filters through my head that she won’t answer. I drop the phone to my desk as if it has burned my palm.
I head to the window to watch the sun wane. The blue hour gives way to total darkness by the time a plan, one I pray will work, comes to me.
It will require a few miracles...andthe strength to see it through.
With a sigh, I pick up the phone and dial.
The first miracle was almost too easy.
I was going to text Tiffany to come down. I didn’t have to. She sprinted from the entrance of her building before I could even park my car.
“Royce, you have the best ideas,” she says, climbing into the front passenger seat. She tosses her weekend bag in the back. It rocks precariously on the edge of the seat before it tips in the right direction. I push it further, so it doesn’t fall over. I then drive away from the curb while Tiffany keeps chatting. “I was sitting in my apartment in the dark, wondering what I should do when you called.”
I bow my head. “Glad I could be of service, Ms. Primrose.”
She giggles, the first merriment I’ve heard from her since I’ve come back.
“You were never this happy to see me,” I complain, tearing my eyes from the bumper to bumper traffic to give her a faux glare.
“I care for you, sweet-ums, I really do, but Thomas... he’s the one. And I was damn stupid to let him get away.”
Alternating between the gas and the brake, I inch forward. To avoid looking at her, I watch the traffic as I speak. “I wish you would have told me about Thomas, Tif. Did you think I wouldn’t have understood?”
Her tone is full of regret and sadness, much like my own had been. “I didn’t understand it myself. Because of my...aversion, I thought I’d always be alone. Then Daddy came to me with your grandfather’s proposal; it seemed almost too good to be true. Dad knows how I struggle...with intimacy. The poor man ought to, he’s been paying my psychoanalyst bills for years.” She chuckles. The sound comes out as bitter as 99% chocolate with not a hint of sweetness in it.
As she continues, I blame myself for not listening to her enough. If I hadn’t been so selfish to not see past my own misery, we both wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Royce, you have to understand that I became so caught up in Daddy’s enthusiasm, I said “yes” right away. That wasn’t the only reason, though I’ve always wanted to have a husband, some kids, and a fur baby or two... just not the sex.” The leather of the chair squeaks along with her shudder. “I wanted companionship. Security. And yeah, friendly affection. You seemed capable of providing that with none of the added pressure.”
“You mean the pressure of my husbandly rights?”
I feel the warmth of her teasing smile. “Yes, you caveman. That’s exactly what I meant.”
I’m quiet for a beat, mulling over her reasoning before giving my own. “I did the same, Tiffany. Without putting up too much of a fight, I agreed to marry you because I felt I owed Gramps. Herescuedme.”
We are silent for a minute, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine consists of wondering how my loyalty led me to assign myself to a stranger. I expect Tiffany’s are the same.
Temporary insanity aside, I’m glad Tif is in my life. To me, she is no longer a stranger. In fact, I consider us joined at the hip, for better or worse, united in our plan to make things right. And although we’ve been through hell, these last three weeks (granted, it was from our own making) we’re now ready to take hold of our future partners with both hands.
Derik greets us on the tarmac. He fist-bumps with Tiffany after I make the introductions.
Pilot Derick and his Co-pilot Arturo are flying out this evening on their last cargo haul before the holidays. Their original trip was to Memphis, Tennessee, and back to New York by Sunday evening.
That is until I stepped in.
With a little cajoling, and a twenty percent increase in their Christmas bonus, they agreed to change the flight plan and drop us off in Dallas before heading to their original destination. From Dallas, Tif and I are booked on a 4 AM flight to Austin.
Tif and I agreed to surprise Thomas and Sin early...before they are fully awake and are conscious enough to slam their respective doors in our faces.
The whine of a powerful engine filters through my ears as the bitter November wind whips my jacket around my knees. Derik claps me on the back and whisper-shouts in my ear, “This has to be the most exciting shit I’ve done in a long time. It’s like a quest or something. And all for love, too. Man, wait till I tell Justin and Danté. They won’t—“
I cut him off. “You can tell Danté, but Justin better not get wind of it. He will make my life a living hell.”
Derik gives me a sideways grin and pats me on the back before he jogs ahead. Bounding up the stairs to the cockpit, he yells over his shoulder, “Too late, man. I called him as soon as I hung up with you.”
Fuck me. I’m in for it.
Following behind Tif, my feet plod up one riser and then the other, anxiety making my steps slow. By the time I step foot on the plane, Tif has buckled herself into the jump seat behind Arturo.
