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“WHERE ARE MY PEARL earrings? They’re my something borrowed!”
They were T-minus one hour from leaving for the airport to fly to Amsterdam for the Byers-Lander wedding, and Brit was perched on her own suitcase, waiting for Barbara to be ready to go.
“Brit!”
“What?”
“Could you please be a maid of honor and help me out? I’ve asked almost nothing of you thus far. This is now your one job.”
“Should’ve let me plan that stripper bachelorette party,” muttered Brit. She trudged past her sister, auburn hair in a frizzy mess from the up-do she had it in the previous day when she had her bridal hair trial. Brit had been there for that and taken a million pictures so that the salon their mom booked in Amsterdam could recreate the look exactly. Half up, half down, with volume on top and curls throughout. Now, it looked like she had been tearing at it in frustration with her underutilized maid of honor.
“Did you check your jewelry box?”
“No, why would they be there? Abednego’s mom just gave them to me like last week. I thought I left them on my dresser so I’d remember to pack them.”
Brit pawed through the open wooden jewelry box. “Well, you’d be wrong.” She plucked the earrings from the mix of bracelets in the center compartment and dropped them in her sister’s outstretched hands.
“I blame my fiancé.”
“You have this marriage thing down already. Can we go now?”
***
THE BYERS SIDE DROVE together to the airport, but they met the Lander and McCutchen brothers at the gate. Cord glanced up at Brit and then back down at the book he was reading. Brit gave him his space for now, but she had to talk to him.
Instead, she pulled Lander aside first, feigning a trip to the coffee shop to get fuel for everyone.
“Change seats with me.” She dodged the pedestrians and their rolling bags trying to get to their gates and tried to meet Lander’s eye to make him understand how serious she was about it.
“Can’t even if I wanted to. Barbie wanted to be apart the day before the wedding. She doesn’t want me situated by her on the plane.”
“That’s bull. Then she shouldn’t have booked you on the same flight.”
“That was your ma.”
“Whatever. Change seats with me.”
“Why?”
Brit sighed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Yeah, girl, I got you. Unless it’s about my wifey.”
“You’re not married yet, but no, it’s not about her. It’s about your brother.”
“It’s about damn time.”
“What?”
“You like him, right? ‘Cause he likes you.”
Brit fought the blush that was creeping into her cheeks. “I think he’s pissed at me right now.”
“Yeah right, about what?”
“Something stupid I did at work. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, you can have my seat.”
“Aw shucks, thanks bro.” Brit encircled his arm with both of hers and hugged it. “You’re the best. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yeah, once or twice.”
***
BRIT, BARBARA, LONNIE, and Saffron boarded first, and Brit took her seat five rows back from her original seat, waving to her confused family. She hadn’t told Barbara. She would make a stupid big deal out of it, and Brit couldn’t handle that yet.
When Cord stepped onto the plane, Brit watched with pleasure as his tall frame moved toward her. Her pores worked overtime as nervous sweat poured out of them. Should’ve tried Botox in her underarms after she kept hearing how it worked so well. His sky-blue eyes checked the ticket several times before he found his row. He pushed his carry-on into the compartment above them, and Brit enjoyed the flash of belly when his T-shirt rode up. Cord in a T-shirt and jeans. She could get used to that.
“That’s not your seat.” He smirked.
“It is now. Sit down.”
He did as he was told.
They didn’t speak again until the plane was in the air. On the ascent, the ride was met with bumps through the clouds, and Cord clutched the armrest between them. His knuckles were white.
Brit tapped one of them with her fingertip. “I didn’t know you were afraid of flying.”
“I wasn’t until recently. One of the flights home from London was...not smooth. To say the least.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
The plane hit another bump, and Cord sucked air through his teeth. Brit peeled his hand from the armrest and placed it in hers, interlacing his fingers with hers. She found it clammy and just as sweaty as hers was.
“Here, you can squeeze this instead.”
His hand relaxed and settled into its place in hers, and his head rested against the headrest, but his facial features were still tense.
“How ‘bout that meeting the other day, am I right? I kind of went ballistic on Rube. I’m going to apologize to him. It was shitty.” Brit cleared her throat. “I regret that. I was being protective of my dad. And of you too, in a way.”
He was slow to answer to the point that Brit wondered if she should keep babbling. Or offer up some more concrete apology.
“You had a weird way of showing it with that nerd jab at me.”
“I’m sorry about that too.” Brit tried to free her hand from his, but he kept it squeezed. “I thought that’s what we did—teased each other.”
“We do, just...not in front of the rest of the staff.” He traced a circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I know you’re passionate, and I know you want this company to be yours someday. I want to support you in that.”
“But...”
“There’s no but. I still do. It scared me how much I did in that moment. I want to support you as your family. As your boyfriend, if that’s what you want. But I know you might not be there yet, or ever.”
Brit squeezed his hand with both her hands now. “I’m there.”
“You are?”
He leaned his face close to hers. She waited for him to go the rest of the way, but he didn’t. She had to go the rest of the way. Give him a break. So she did. Closing the gap, she parted her lips and pressed them against Cord’s. His were soft pillows, so comfortable and perfect that she didn’t want to pull away.
“Excuse me, can I get you something to drink?” asked the pretty flight attendant, breaking up their moment.
Brit wanted to growl at her and yank the collar of Cord’s T-shirt until his lips connected with hers again. “Sprite.”
“Red wine.”
Brit stared at the back of her sister’s and Lander’s heads in front of them, not sure where to go from here.
“I like your skirt.” Cord played with the hem of one of the gingham ruffles.
Brit angled her knees toward him. “I remember.”
“I don’t know what I was so worried about. Flying’s not so bad.” The plane hit another bump, and Cord grabbed Brit’s hand again. When their path smoothed out again, he brought the back of her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
Brit moaned quietly at the feeling of his full lips on her hand and hoped the whir of the engine hid her little noise.
“But now I can’t wait to land,” he said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”