AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Since when are you such a philosopher?" I asked.
"Since I became a teacher or, rather, a teacher's assistant. Did I tell you that my certification classes start next week?"
"Oh, awesome."
"I'm so happy."
"I know. Me too."
"Oliver and I were talking, and he was like, 'Maybe you could homeschool the kids.' And I was like, 'No, the kids are going to a regular school.'"
I laughed. "So when are you guys planning on having kids?"
"I think we'll wait for a couple of years. You know I want to have a large family, and it turns out Oliver does too."
"Aw." I sighed.
"Hey, girl. I'm sorry. I've been going on about Oliver way too much. I didn't mean to be inconsiderate or insensitive to your feelings."
"Oh my gosh, Rosalie, stop. You're totally fine. I love hearing about you and Oliver. And I just hope I can meet someone so when you're ready to have kids, I can also have kids around the same time. And they can be best friends and, well, you know that would be the dream."
"Yeah, it would," she said.
I didn't tell her what I was thinking inside—that I hoped her brother would be the man to make all those dreams come true.
Chapter3
Foster
"Good morning, sir. Where are you traveling to today?" The airline counter lady gave me a winning smile, and I smiled back. She was a bit older but had that dignified, slightly sexy air that I found many British women who were confident with their sexuality had.
"Hi. Good morning, Matilda. I'm actually flying to JFK in New York."
"Oh, long way. You're American?" She seemed surprised, and I wasn’t sure why.
"Yeah." I watched her frown slightly at my answer. I knew I should have said, “yes, I am,” but I didn’t care about the correct use of the English language in this situation. Let her judge me for being American if she wanted to.
"Very nice. I've always wanted to go to New York," she said in what I assumed was a Northern British accent as it had less of a posh lilt to it and deeper pronunciations. "Can I see your ID please, sir? Or rather your passport?"
"Sure." I handed her my passport. She opened it and looked up with a flirtatious smile. "Foster Sloane. What a nice name."
"Thank you." I nodded, not wanting to tell her that her name reminded me of the kid in the Ronald Dahl book and movie. For some reason, an image of a large chocolate cake popped into my mind.
"Mr. Sloane, I see, ooh, you're traveling in business class today, sir." Her voice changed, and I could see a new respect in her eyes.
"Yes, I am." I nodded and held back a grin as her eyes widened, and she preened at me like a peacock wanting its feathers stroked. Now that I had the looks and the money, she didn’t care that I was American.
"Ooh, well, very nice. I currently have you in seat 2B. Is that the seat you would prefer?" She tapped some buttons on the keyboard in front of her.
"Sure, that works. Unless there's a better seat I don't know about?" I figured I might as well lightly flirt back. Maybe I’d get some free miles or something.
"Well, I try not to tell too many people this, but 3A is actually the best seat on the plane." She leaned forward and bit down on her lower lip.
"Oh, is it available?"
"Let me check, sir." She punched some buttons into the keyboard. "Well, it's currently occupied, but I could change seats for you. It looks like the occupant hasn’t checked in yet."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to get into trouble."
