Eyes tired, I set my phone in my lap and rested my head on the seat. My mind replayed last night, highlighting everything from Kline stealing kisses between asking me my favorite bands, movies, and vacation spots, to him making love to me, over and over again.
My fingers touched my lips, hiding my ridiculous smile.
“I know that look,” a woman softly whispered beside me.
My eyes blinked open, finding an older lady with salt and pepper hair and a rounded, smiling face in the seat next to mine. “You’re thinking about someone special, aren’t you?”
“Am I that obvious?” I laughed, my cheeks flushing.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Love is a beautiful thing when you find it. It’s something to be happy about, something to cherish, something to wear on your face every single day,” she said, genuine happiness in her voice. “Is he a good man?”
I nodded. Kline’s handsome face flashed in my mind. In that moment, I could picture every one of his smiles—happy, teasing, playful, loving. It was an endless list and one that I wanted to memorize and keep with me forever. “Yeah, he is. He’s definitely one of the good ones.”
“Is he your husband?”
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s my boyfriend.”
She grinned, her cheeks puffing out in soft delight. “By the looks of your glow, I’d say you’re headed in that direction.”
Were we? My rational head wanted me to slow the hell down, but my heart was already picking out invitations and flowers. Even though we had just started exchanging I love yous, there was no denying I’d fallen hard for Kline. I was in so deep I honestly couldn’t picture myself without him. Ever.
Before I could respond to her statement or ask her something about herself, she was adjusting in her seat, placing a pillow around her neck. “I wish you the best of luck, dear. I hope you and your wonderful man get a very happy ever after. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to rest my eyes. I can feel my Xanax kicking in.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “It’s for the best, though,” she added. “I’m a very nervous flyer.”
She closed her eyes, and within seconds, soft snores fell from her lips.
I made a note to tell my doctor I was a nervous flyer too. The long flights I often took for business trips would have been much more tolerable with the magic that was Xanax. I’d much rather have slept through a four-hour flight than toss and turn without getting any rest.
“Sorry for the delay,” a woman’s voice filtered through the speakers. “We will be taking off shortly.”
My phone buzzed in my lap, catching my attention.
It was a picture message from Cassie, with the words, “I’m so sorry, Georgia.”
Huh?
I tapped the photo and it filled the screen, zooming in so I could figure out what she was talking about.
It was a screenshot of a TapNext conversation.
TAPRoseNEXT (7:00PM): You’re a very nice guy, but I can’t continue talking with you anymore. I’ve gotten more serious with the man I’m seeing and this just doesn’t feel right. I’m sorry. Good luck with everything, Ruck.
BAD_Ruck (6:45AM): I get it. I do. But I think we should meet in person, just the two of us. Please, Rose.
I white-knuckled my phone as I stared down at the screen in disbelief.
I don’t think I breathed for an entire minute. I felt like someone had reached down my throat and pulled my heart straight out of my body.
My eyes closed of their own accord, my mind in self-preservation mode. My heart roaring in my ears, I took a cavernous breath and found the strength to open my eyes again, hoping—no, praying—I had missed something along the line.
But I hadn’t. I fucking hadn’t. The screenshot, Kline’s response, it was real. One-hundred percent real.
I scrubbed a hand down my face, pressing into my lids to stop the tears wanting to spill down my cheeks. A shaky sigh escaped my lips as I tried to focus through the blurry mess of emotions.
His message was timestamped from this morning at 3:45 a.m. Pacific.
My throat constricted, cheeks straining in agony to stop myself from losing it.
I won’t cry. I will not sob in front of a plane full of strangers.
This morning. He sent that message in between playfully asking me questions and making love to me. Or was it faking love to me? Because that was what it felt like now. I’d never felt so betrayed, so utterly devastated in my entire life.
The pain built in my chest, burning like I had swallowed hot coals. I was hanging by a thread, my free hand gripping the armrest in a pathetic attempt to hold myself together.
“Miss, we’re about to take off. You need to turn your phone off now.”
I pulled my eyes from the screen, finding a flight attendant with long blonde hair and a pink smile standing above me.
All I could do was stare at her. Honestly, I didn’t even know what she was saying to me.
“Your phone?” She nodded to my hands.