Page 71 of Come Fly with Me

“So you’re admitting he’s your boyfriend then?”

“I guess I am.” I laugh a little, knowing this is not where I thought I would be after my divorce. Protecting my heart was about the only thing I would have admitted to before Jake.

“He’s good for you,” Carrie simply states, taking in a long slow breath. “I know you hate when I get all serious and shit, but he’s the kind of guy who makes you a better person. He wants to be a part of what you’ve created, and that’s huge. He isn’t here to tell you how to make things better. He’s here because he wants to work as your partner. He wants to be your equal.”

“Oh my god, Carrie, enough. You’re making me uncomfortable,” I practically yell, and she laughs out loud. “But yeah, okay, I hear you.”

“You should tell him you’re grateful for him.”

“You need to calm down. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks. I’m not the insta-love kind of person.” I’m lying through my teeth because I am totally falling for him even as I try to hold my feelings back.

“I know you’re not. You’re rebellious and different and a badass because you refuse to be what everyone else is, but it’s okay for you to let yourself fall in love just a little bit. It doesn’t diminish your badassery.”

“Fine. You’re very convincing. Now, how about we meet up for coffee while I wait for my boyfriend to come back home?”

“Ugh, I thought you were never going to ask. Let me drop the kids off at school and daycare and tell Charlie I’m coming in late to work.”

“I’m going to head home and take a quick shower. Meet at our usual place?”

“Yep, see you soon.”

Twenty-Four

Jake

My flight to Hong Kong is worse than the flight from L.A. to Singapore. The tension in the cockpit is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Theo and I barely speak unless it’s to radio or confirm commands. If the plane were to crash and they listened to the cockpit voice recorder, it would be a classic demonstration of a crew not working well together.

Thankfully, the plane doesn’t crash, and when we get to Hong Kong, I spend the limited time we have there avoiding him.

It’s fair to say, Theo and I are both pissed off at this point. Me, because of how much he disrespects Taylor, and him, because I assume he’s jealous and pissed that she’s stopped sleeping with him and is now sleeping with me.

Dick.

Either way, all I care about is getting back to L.A. When we finally do touch down back at LAX, we both go through the checklist before handing the plane over to the ground engineers. Just when I think I’m going to be able to walk away without any further interaction with him, he turns in his seat to face me.

“Just so you know,” he starts, a smug look on his face. “I’m going to be requesting that you and I don’t fly together anymore.”

“Works for me,” I reply, not giving him the satisfaction of asking why as I undo my belt and get out of my seat. It’s pretty fucking obvious why, and if the situation were reversed, I’d be doing the same thing.

He stands, and we face each other, our bodies close in the confined space of the cockpit. “You actually think you mean something to her?” he asks, hands on his hips. “That this…” he trails off as though he isn’t sure what else to say.

That’s okay, though because I’m sick and fucking tired of listening to him. “Theo, why the hell do you care so much?” I ask, mirroring his pose. “Why do you give two shits about who Taylor is sleeping with?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him the chance.

“I get you’re jealous,” I spit out. “Get you’re pissed she’s stopped sleeping with you, but you know what? You need to grow the fuck up and accept it,” I tell him, my voice loud. “And stop disrespecting a woman who is not only an amazing pilot, but also a captain at this airline. Fuck’s sake!”

I shove a hand through my hair in frustration, before grabbing my things, not bothering to stick around and wait for a response from him. Just as I’m unlocking the cockpit door, though, he speaks.

“A captain is something you’ll never be. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

I don’t turn around, and I don’t respond, just open the door and walk out, pulling it shut behind me as hard as I can.

On the crew bus to the parking garage, I pull out my phone and text Taylor, letting her know that I’m just going to swing by home and grab some clothes before heading over to her place. It’s nearly six and I’m starving, so I also ask if she wants me to grab some food.

She replies with a photo, just a single image of her bare legs, the picture cut off just before the top, with an accompanying text that says, “I’ve got something you can eat.”

I grin, flicking back a couple of the drooling face emojis to let her know exactly how I feel about that.

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