Page 85 of Come Fly with Me

“Yeah, the fastest way I can get back home is through Boston. I just flew in from London and got a call from Kaitlin telling me she’s pregnant.”

My eyebrows go up in response to his words, and he shakes his head, giving me a smirk.

“It’s a good thing, a great thing actually.”

“Congratulations are in order then,” I say, patting him on the arm. “What do you say we celebrate tonight? You turned me down last time we were in New York together.” I wink at him and playfully give him an elbow to his side.

He pauses, looking at me as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m propositioning him or if I’m legitimately asking him to dinner as friends.

“I don’t sleep with married men, Dean. Never have, never will,” I say, knowing my words are a lie, but also knowing I was lied to and led to believe Jake was single. I’ve never been about breaking up a family or being the other woman. “Just dinner and a night out in the Big Apple?” I suggest, making it clear my intentions are only friendly ones.

“Why not? I’ve got nothing else going on. What’s on your agenda?”

We continue walking, Dean now next to me as we make our way out of the airport and while we could hop on the crew shuttle, I flag us a taxi. Sometimes things like this are better kept private. The last thing either of us needs is gossip, and the two of us together would just have that tea spilling all over the place. I give the cab driver the name of the crew hotel, and we’re on our way, but in that moment, I realize I failed to answer Dean’s question.

“I was planning to go to Madame Tussauds and eat excessive amounts of New York-style pizza and visit the portal to hell, also known as Times Square.” I shrug my shoulders at my over-the-top tourist plan, giving a little laugh at how ridiculous it is.

Dean lets out a deep laugh, his head falling back a little as the cab driver looks at me in the rearview mirror.

“I find women like you fascinating,” he says, and I cock my head and narrow my eyes wondering what that’s supposed to mean. Women like me…

“I’m not dust, Dean. I don’t settle.”

“Exactly.” He opens his mouth to say something else but stops, and the air between us falls silent for a few seconds. The sounds of horns and sirens fill the cab, and we ride along, watching the busy city street pass us by.

There’s something calming about being with Dean. There’s no expectations, no worries or fears of judgment, just the notion of friendship and maybe that’s exactly what I need right now.

“So,” Dean starts, and I know he’s been working up to ask me about Jake. The rumor mill at Crescent Airways has been working overtime, especially if you add in my recent run-in during my evaluation.

“What do you want to know, Dean?” I ask, a smirk on my face, beating him to the awkward conversation.

“I heard you were dating someone. Another pilot.”

“Oh, yeah, I was for a hot second, but…” I trail off, not certain how to explain what happened between Jake and me. “Things end.”

“Things do end, but when you find that right person, they make life so much easier.”

“So I hear.”

Dean chuckles a little, his lips turning up in a small smile. “You’re dangerous,” he says, tipping his head in my direction.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you don’t need anyone.”

Now it’s me smirking, a small piece of my broken heart mending itself at Dean’s words. “Thank you. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

Coming from someone else, it would’ve been perceived as a dig, something to get under my skin, something from a guy to make me question myself, but from Dean, it shows he knows who I am and what I need to hear.

We drop our stuff off at the hotel and meet back up in the lobby, both of us dressed casually, and for a second, I realize people will think we’re a couple. But these are other people’s issues not mine. Today is about celebrating Dean, and an opportunity for me to just have fun.

“You ready?” he asks, opening the door for me as I pull out my phone and put in the address to the wax museum.

“Yep, let’s see some wax people.”

We spend about two hours at the museum fucking about, taking pictures and laughing. It’s casual and fun, and when Dean suggests I kneel in front of the Bill Clinton figure, I do it, both of us laughing to the point of tears.

On our walk to the pizza place we stroll through Times Square, stopping to take a few pictures, but both of us avoiding all the craziness of the people dressed up in ratty costumes wanting tips for pictures. But unfortunately, Hello Kitty, who looks like she’s been rode hard and put away wet, gets a little too close, so we make a run for it. Dean grabbing at my wrist and telling me to hurry because dirty Hello Kitty smells like old cheese.

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