Page 57 of Fly with Me

For the past three days, they’d texted around the clock. Stella had raved about the cake and how much her dad liked the leftovers Olive had sent home with her. They’d joked about Swedish Fish, unlikely death scenarios, and everything else. She’d been so preoccupied with Stella that it was easy to ignore the texts from Lindsay. And not overthink about the lack of recent actual contact with her mom and Heather. Olive also evaded some of the slightly judgy but ultimately caring texts from Derek, who seemed baffled by the entire situation.

They’d straightened Olive’s hair for the interview, and it felt like she’d had a head transplant. It didn’t move the way it normally did, giving her an odd, out-of-body feeling. She was checking it in the mirror one last time when Stella ran her hands through it. Olive fought the urge to lean into her touch. But they were alone here. No one was watching, so she didn’t have the fake relationship as an excuse for potential cuddle initiation. That wasn’t listed in the PDA section.

“You look lovely, Olive. Your hair is so soft like this. And so much longer. But I like it when it’s curly too.”

“I hardly ever straighten it. I used to. But it was a pain. Derek said all the heat was ruining the texture.”

“I like it wild.” Their eyes met in the mirror. “But you’re—it’s beautiful today.”

They were standing so close, Stella’s hip was pushing up against her. It was a slight nudge of friction just inches from a very sensitive spot.

“You look nice too. I like you in the uniform.” Olive’s finger traced the outline of the wings on Stella’s chest.

“Come on another flight, and you’ll see me in it again.”

“Where are you going on Saturday?”

“Cincinnati,” she said in an exaggerated, seductive whisper.

“Hard pass.”

“What’s wrong with Cincinnati?”

“What’s in Cincinnati?” Olive drawled.

“You’re such an East Coast snob.”

“I’m an East Coast snob?” Olive poked Stella’s arm. “You’re the one who said she always needed to shower after coming home from the Bible Belt.”

“All that self-righteousness makes me itch.” After affecting a tiny grossed-out shudder, Stella doubled over laughing and braced a hand on the small of Olive’s back.

“You ladies ready to go?” said the voice of a PA from the door. The woman tilted her head. “You really do make an adorable couple.”

“Thank you.” Stella’s smile wasn’t the same as it had been a few seconds ago.

They sat together opposite a perfectly polished woman in a purple dress, all mic’d up and ready to go. When the camera went on, Olive found she could breathe through the anxiety as long as the familiar smell of lilacs and vanilla kept her calm.

“You were absolutely amazing, Stella. Thank you,” Olive whispered into her ear as they went back to the green room to get their stuff. Stella’s smooth hand was still tight in hers, ostensibly for the pretense of their arrangement. But no one was watching them now.

“You were too.”

“My hospital’s going to be thrilled about this. Maybe we really will get some donations to the department. You never know. New donors can really help with equipment and budgets.”

“I’m glad I could help. I don’t know how nurses do what you do. When you told me about that patient threatening to kill you the other day…” She shook her head. “I like having an impenetrable door between me and the general public most of the time. I don’t like that you have to deal with that.”

Because she was concerned for Olive’s safety?

“It’s all usually less dramatic than it sounds.”

A buzzing came from Stella’s pocket. When she lifted the phone, worry erupted on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“My dad fell. Shit. He says he made it back into the chair, and he’s fine.” She began furiously typing on her phone.

“Did he hit his head?”

“His caregiver didn’t say. I’ll ask.” She typed more. “He told her to tell me to stop coddling him.”

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