“Knowing you now, I’d almost believe you didn’t have it in you to be so spontaneous. It makes sense. You left Cutter’s with me that night to have something to talk about.” Arrogance flickered in his eyes.
“Don’t forget, Thomas. You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you bite your thumbnail when you’re nervous. I know you twist your hair around your finger when you’re in deep thought. You drink Manhattans. You like Fuzzy’s Burgers. You hate milk. You’re not particularly fussy about the cleanliness of your home. You can run farther than I can during our lunch hour, and you like weird Japanese art. You’re patient, you give second chances, and you don’t make hasty judgments about strangers. You’re professional and highly intelligent, and you snore.”
“I do not!” I sat straight up.
Thomas laughed. “Okay, it’s not snoring. You just…breathe.”
“Everyone breathes,” I said, defensive.
“My apologies. I think it’s cute.”
I tried not to smile but failed. “I lived with Jackson for years, and he never said anything.”
“It’s the tiniest wheeze, barely noticeable,” he said.
I shot him a dirty look.
“To be fair, Jackson was in love with you. He probably didn’t tell you a lot of things.”
“Good thing you’re not, so I can hear all the humiliating things about myself.”
“As far as everyone is concerned, I’m in love with you today and tomorrow.”
His words made me pause. “Then, play the part and pretend that you think I’m perfect.”
“I can’t recall thinking otherwise.” Thomas didn’t crack a smile.
“Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Does my first FD-three-oh-two ring a bell?”
“You know why I did that.”
“I’m not perfect,” I grumbled, biting the corner of my thumbnail.
“I don’t want you to be.”
He scanned over my face with such affection that I felt like the only other person in the fuselage. He leaned toward me, his eyes fixated on my lips. I had just begun to close the gap when the flight attendant approached.
“Would you open your tray table?” she asked.
Thomas and I both blinked and then fiddled with the mechanics of getting the trays out of the arm of the seat. His popped out first, and then he helped me with mine. The attendant gave us that what-a-cute-couple look and then spread napkins on both of our trays before setting our meals before us.
“More wine?” she asked.
I looked at my half-empty glass. I hadn’t even realized I’d been drinking it. “Yes, please.”
She filled my glass and then returned to the other passengers.
Thomas and I ate our meals in silence, but it was clear what we thought of our microwaved grilled chicken with a teaspoon of sweet chili sauce and limp mixed vegetables. The pretzel roll was the best part of the meal.
The man sitting in the aisle seat in front of us kept his feet propped on the wall in front of him and talked to his neighbor about his burgeoning evangelical career. The silver-haired man behind us talked to the woman next to him about his first novel, and after asking some basic questions, she revealed that she was thinking of writing one, too.
Before I was finished with my warm chocolate chip cookie, the pilot came over the PA system to announce that he would begin the descent soon, and our flight would land in Chicago ten minutes earlier than expected. Once he finished his announcement, a symphony of seat belts unclicking and bodies shifting could be heard, and the pilgrimages to the restrooms began.
Thomas closed his eyes again. I tried not to stare. Since we’d met, I had done nothing but deny my feelings for him while I fought ferociously for my independence. But I was free only when he touched me. Outside of our intimate moments, I would be held captive by thoughts of his hands.
Even if it was just for appearances, I hoped that pretending would satisfy my curiosity. If Thomas seeing Camille changed anything, at least remembering the best memories of the weekend would be a better alternative to mourning our fake relationship when we got home.
“Liis,” Thomas said, his eyes still shut.
“Yes?”
“The moment we land, we’re undercover.” He looked at me. “It’s important that any connections with Mick or Benny have no clue that we’re federal agents.”
“I understand.”
“You’re free to talk about anything from your life, except for your time at the Bureau. That will be interchanged by your undercover career as a replacement professor in cultural studies at the University of California, San Diego. We have all the records in place there.”
“I’ve packed my university credentials.”
“Good.” He closed his eyes again, settling into his seat. “You’ve researched the school, I assume?”
“Yes, and your family and a few others who you might have mentioned if we were in an actual relationship—Shepley, America, Camille, the twins; your dad, Jim; his brother, Jack; Jack’s wife, Deana; and your mom.”
His lips curved up. “Diane. You can say her name.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was a natural thing to say, practically ingrained, and I didn’t mean anything by it, but Thomas’s eyes popped open, and his disappointment was hard to miss.
“It’s Thomas. Just Thomas.” He turned his shoulders to face me head-on. “I have to admit, I thought this would be easier for you. I know it will be distracting to be in Chicago again, but are you sure you can do this? It’s important.”
I bit my lip. For the first time, I truly worried that I would slip and not only put the whole operation at risk, but also put Thomas in danger of being at odds with his family for lying. But if I voiced my concerns, the Bureau would send another female agent to play the part, likely one out of the Chicago office.
I took his hand in mine, tenderly rubbing my thumb against his skin. He looked down at our hands and then back at me.
“Do you trust me?” I asked.
Thomas nodded, but I could tell he was uncertain.
“When we set down, not even you will be able to tell the difference.”