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ChapterOne
Nash
As I walk through the airport, I smile. I don’t miss the hustle and bustle of daily travel like I thought I would.
“Nash?”
I turn when I hear my name. “Jason. Please don’t tell me you’re flying 2798 to Cancun.”
“I wish. But today, I’m heading north — to Alaska.”
I chuckle. “And by that frown, I’m guessing you have a stopover.”
Jason’s a SoCal boy, born and raised. He hates cold weather so much he doesn’t even ski, only surfs.
“It’s raining in Anchorage,” he grumbles.
“You’ll be fine. You packed your parka?”
“Shut up. It’s going to get down to the low forties tonight. Low forties, Nash.”
I shrug. “Maybe you should consider moving to corporate jets.”
“And lose my seniority?”
I laugh. “A lot of good that seniority is doing for you.”
“I get holidays off. I’ve worked long and hard for that.”
“I generally do too. Plus, longer stopovers. Like today. I’m flying down to Cancun three days before my client so that I can accept his aircraft and have it ready to take him to Brazil.”
“He’s paying you to go on vacation?”
I shrug. “I have to be at the airport to accept the aircraft, but other than that? Yep.”
He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s thinking about it. He confirms that when he says, “send me that recruiting email again. I might actually read it this time.”
With a wave, I make my way to the gate. In the last eighteen months since changing jobs, I’ve travelled commercial more than ever before. I no longer have to bite my nails and keep refreshing the standby list. I get to fly confirmed. And today — like most days — they booked me first class.
When I reach the gate, I wave at the gate agent, Dylan. I worked with him a lot when I was a pilot for the airline. I scan the seating area for an empty chair when I see another familiar face, one I didn’t expect to see today in the airport.
“Luna?”
She turns to face me, her long black hair swirls around like ebony liquid. I’m surprised I recognize her. She looks so grown up.
“Nash. Oh, my God. Are you the pilot on this flight?”
I shake my head. “I’m no longer flying commercial.”
“Since when?”
“Not long after the divorce, actually.”
Her cheeks pinken and her gaze darts away. Her mom is part of the reason I changed jobs. Rea’s a flight attendant and we met while working a lot of the same routes. What I didn’t know is that I wasn’t the first — or the last — pilot to fall for her sexy accent and exotic looks. I didn’t want to work the same flights as Rea.
“I’m sorry about how all that went down,” Luna says.
“You couldn’t have known it would devolve into that.”
