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Twenty-Six

Paige and I took a commercial flight to Albuquerque and were crammed in economy seats that weren’t wide enough to accommodate my shoulders. And don’t get me started on the lack of legroom. We should have booked the exit row.

Paige took the window seat, and I sat in the one next to the aisle. Our elbows were pressed together on the armrest. I understood that airlines had to make money, too, but touching her was driving me a little mad, and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. I had to squeeze it all out. Think of Becky. Think of your job.

Paige looked over at me and smiled awkwardly. She was just as uncomfortable as I was, and I found that comforting. The saying “misery loves company” came to mind.

“This is strange, isn’t it?” I said, thinking maybe it was best to put a floodlight on the elephant in the room.

“Us working together? Ah, yeah.”

My mother would likely say something to the effect that one’s character grew during challenging circumstances, not easygoing times. Maybe personal growth was overrated. “I’m certainly no Zach.”

“Nope.” She grinned and glanced out the window, not that there was anything to see. We’d left the ground in Washington, DC, around two in the morning and were only an hour into our four-and-a-half-hour flight to Albuquerque, New Mexico.

“Well, you’re no Jack, either.”

She faced me again. “Ha-ha.”

“Take that as a compliment,” I said with a smile.

“Uh-huh. I’m probably easier on you.”

Yes and no…Depends on how you look at it.

She stared into my eyes. “How are you and Becky, by the way?”

“Ah, good. No complaints.” The image of Becky flashed in my mind, and I shoved aside the feelings of guilt that came with it. After all, I hadn’t done anything to wrong her. I just didn’t want to move in together and had asked her to remove her spare toothbrush from my place. “We’re taking things a bit slower than we had been.”

“Oh.” Summed up in one little utterance, not much more than a guttural response: she pegged our relationship as doomed.

“It’s a good thing,” I assured her, but wasn’t sure whether I was trying to convince her or myself.

“If you say so. Slow can just be stagnant.”

“Slow can just be slow, too,” I snapped.

Paige just kept looking into my eyes. “You guys are good together. Don’t mess it up because you fear commitment.”

“You’re one to talk!” I lashed back. Being accused of the exact thing I was guilty of stung beyond measure, like alcohol poured on an open wound. “You probably slept with me in the first place because I was married and there’d be no pressure for you to commit to our relationship.” The words were out in a torrent, and the pain that washed over her face slammed me in the chest. “I’m sor—”

Her eyes glistened in the dim light of the cabin. “I don’t want to hear it. Not at all. Let’s just keep things professional. We have a job to do; we do it. All this personal stuff—and the history between us—I’m so over it.”

I was wise enough not to point out that she’d been the one to bring up “this personal stuff” when she’d asked about Becky. “Works for me,” I said coolly and leaned my head against the back of my chair and closed my eyes.

I didn’t open them again until Paige was nudging my elbow.

“Wake up.”

I peeked through slits and groaned. “What—”

Paige pointed to the aisle, and I followed the direction of her finger.

A flight attendant was staring back at me. “If you could straighten your chair, sir.”

It took a few seconds for her words to penetrate; my mind was so groggy, and I didn’t remember reclining the seat. I fumbled for the button on the chair and leaned forward to return the back to an upright position. I felt across my waist, and my belt was still on. I wouldn’t have taken it off the entire flight.

“Thank you, sir.” The attendant smiled, and I wondered how many more times she’d say sir before we landed. She left, and I turned to Paige.

“I didn’t even hear the announcement that we were descending.” My words probably came across as a mumble.

“You probably couldn’t hear it over your snoring.”

I felt my cheeks heat—and that was a hard feat to accomplish. “Whatcha gonna do.” Play it cool.

She smirked. I recalled our argument before I’d nodded off, and my stomach soured.

“You get any sleep?” I asked.

“Not really.” Her eyes burrowed into mine.

“Oh, my snoring?”

“Maybe, but it’s okay. If it wasn’t that, it was—” She gave a furtive glance between our seats and pointed a finger behind us. Between the crack, a young boy was smiling at me, mischievousness smeared all over his face.

“And you wonder why I don’t want kids,” I whispered.

“Never have, but it’s not the kids who are the problem so much as the parents.”

I couldn’t disagree with her there. For some reason, parents these days let their kids get away with so much more than those from my generation. Lazy parenting? Hard to know precisely, given that I had no personal experience in that regard.

The plane started swerving from side to side like it was sliding on ice.

I gripped the arms of my chair and ended up putting my hand right on top of Paige’s and squeezing. She pulled back like she’d been scalded by hot water.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.”

A mumbled voice came over the speakers, and all I could make out was, “Ladies and gentlemen…turbulence…nothing to worry about.”

I took a steady breath. A plane crash or facing Paige on the ground—I wasn’t sure which would be worse. At least with the former, it would be over quickly.