NowI’mthe one who’s embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t wink at all. Maybe it was all in my mind. “Thank you, Christian. I apologize. I’m nervous.”
He nods and retreats into the cockpit.
“See?” Brett says, motioning around the plane. “Much bigger than an elevator.”
“It’s huge. I didn’t expect this. I don’t feel claustrophobic at all.”
He looks in the liquor cabinet, then pulls a bottle of wine out of the mini fridge. “You won’t be needing any of this then?”
“I didn’t say that,” I tell him, going in search of glasses.
He chuckles as he opens the bottle and pours us each a glass. “Where do you want to sit? I’d recommend not right over the wing. You’ll have a better view.”
I look out each window, assessing which view might be the best. Then I take a seat, placing my wine in the cup holder next to me.
Brett sits in the seat facing me, our knees almost touching. It’s hot today. I’m wearing a sundress, and he’s in shorts. Our bare knees being inches apart gives me flashbacks of our lovemaking.
“You okay?” he asks. “You kind of zoned out for a second.”
I shake it off and look out the window. “I’m fine.”
Christian’s voice comes over the intercom, telling us we’re going to depart. I feel the plane move, and my heartbeat goes from zero to sixty. I bring the wine glass to my lips and drink until it’s gone.
Brett must notice my growing anxiety. “Are you thinking about your dad?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the fact that we’re in a tin can that’s about to defy the laws of gravity or physics or whatever.”
He puts a hand on my knee. “Just like a roller coaster ride, remember?”
I blow out a deep breath. “If the roller coaster went up ten thousand feet.”
“More like thirty,” he says.
My head falls back against the seat. “Gee, thanks.”
“Sorry.” He points to the TV. “The video is starting.”
It does nothing to relieve my nerves. “In the event of awater landing?”I say in horror.
Brett reaches for my hand. “That never happens.”
“What about that movie? You know, about the plane that landed in the Hudson.”
“Okay, itrarelyhappens. But Emma, you’re much more likely to get in an accident in a car than on a plane.”
“I don’t have a car,” I blurt out.
“Okay, a cab then. Hell, even walking the streets of Brooklyn is more dangerous than this.”
The video ends, and the plane moves faster and faster. My heartbeat quickens. I gaze out the window and it looks like we’re going a hundred miles per hour. Probably because we are.
“Do you want me to have Christian turn around?” Brett asks.
I shake my head over and over. “No. I have to do this.”
Brett pulls out his phone and turns on the music. But I can’t hear it over the loud drone of the engines.
“Sorry,” he says. “I forgot my earbuds. I could kiss you, but …” He looks down at the seatbelt anchoring him to his seat.