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Before I realize it, Kennedy has already moved far ahead. Determined not to let this moment pass, I speed up again so I can keep her within sight. I’m about to call her name when I collide with a burly gentleman heading in the opposite direction. The overstuffed bag he’s carrying falls to the floor, and miscellaneous items spill out.
“Jesus, will you watch where you’re going?” the portly man complains, grunting as he bends over to retrieve his scattered belongings.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I say. I know I should help him collect his things—it would be the gentlemanly thing to do—but it’s bad timing as the love of my life is about to disappear from sight.
When I look again, Kennedy is nowhere to be seen.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m in a rush,” I say as I sidestep the man. I hurry in the direction of the check-in counters, hoping desperately to get another glimpse of Kennedy. When she comes into my line of sight once more, standing in a long queue, I slow to a leisurely stroll. She’s taking the same flight I am. It would seem Fate is smiling on me after all. And like a hunter stalking its prey, I watch her every move.
From my vantage point behind her in the queue, I see that Kennedy Takahashi hasn’t changed one bit. She’s still slender, petite, her black hair silky straight—although it’s longer now, falling well past her shoulders. Her delicate profile is unchanged, and she’s as lovely as ever. Time has been kind to her.
How old is she now? Twenty-eight?
I, on the other hand, have changed a great deal over the past few years, to the point I doubt she’d even recognize me. I filled out considerably in my early twenties. Thanks to weight training and protein shakes, I’m more muscular now, and my shoulders are broader. My hair has changed to a slightly darker shade of blond. And today I’m dressed like the corporate bigshot I am. I doubt she would have recognized me even if I’d stepped on her toes.
I stand quietly considering my options. If I make my presence known to her now, I risk her changing flights just to avoid me. So, I decide to bide my time and wait until we’ve boarded the plane before I approach her. After all, she can’t jump out if we’re thousands of feet in the air.
Today I’m one of the last to check in, and the last to board the plane. When I pass through the first-class section, I spot Kennedy seated by the left-hand window on the front row. She’s got her nose buried in a tablet, so she doesn’t notice me walking by. I continue to business class and, after stowing my hand luggage, I take my seat.
Will or Skye must have bought her plane ticket, because if Kennedy had bought it herself, she’d be seated in economy. She’s always been a frugal one. When we were together, she’d count every penny. Of course, as an intern, she made hardly anything at all. Same as me. We used to scrimp and save our money so we could splurge on a pizza on the weekends. Now, I’m figuratively rolling in money. If she wanted a pizza, I could buy her a pizzeria. I would have given her the world, if only she’d let me.
It isn’t long before the plane takes off and the seat belt sign turns off, informing us that we can move about the cabin. This is my moment. I head toward the front of the aircraft.
“Can I help you, sir?” a middle-aged blonde air hostess asks with a flirty smile.
I motion forward to the curtains dividing first class from business class. “Mind if I take a look in first class? I’m pretty sure I spotted a friend when I boarded.”
The woman frowns. “We’re really not supposed to—”
“I know, love,” I say, really laying it on thick as I gaze down into her green eyes. “But if you would indulge me for just one moment.”
Her gaze darts from me to the curtain. “Well, if you make it quick.”
“Absolutely. I promise.” And then I push through the curtain.
Immediately, my gaze lands on Kennedy, whose attention is still on her tablet. She’s probably working. She always was a bit of a workaholic. As I take her in, my chest tightens, and I struggle to catch my breath. How is it possible that she’s still so utterly captivating?
I can see only her profile from here, but it’s enough for me to know that her mouth is still a perfect pink bow. Her cheeks are smooth and fine as porcelain. Her oval face is accentuated by the most intoxicating eyes I’ve ever seen, elegantly shaped and framed by sweeping dark lashes. I’d give anything for a chance to look directly into those dark irises again and to have her look at me the way she used to.
Before she left me.
I’m sorry, Connor. This isn’t going to work. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.
That’s what her note said. It was utter bullshit.
Her ebony hair, which she used to wear in a chin-length bob, now brushes her shoulders. She’s dressed casually in a white blouse—I can’t see the rest of her.
Do I make myself known to her? Do I stroll over to her seat and say, “Hey, Kennedy, fancy seeing you here.”
A multitude of scenarios run through my head, but instead of acting upon any of them, I stand rooted to the spot, unable to move. I’m frozen in place as I drink her in.
As if she senses my gaze upon her, she suddenly looks up and scans the cabin until she spots me. Instantly, her dark eyes widen in shock. She frowns as she studies me—like she’s trying to reconcile the impossible.
Hey, I can relate.
It takes a moment before it sinks in—I’m really here. A flash of emotions transforms her expression—first acknowledgement, then shock, followed by something that looks suspiciously like sorrow and panic—but never once do I see anything resembling joy.
She gives me an obligatory nod, as if she’s acknowledging an old acquaintance, but the tight narrowing of her eyes tells me she isn’t pleased to see me. Clearly, she’s as surprised as I am.
