Page 33 of In Flight

It’s all fine.

He doesn’t have to share with me or open up about what’s wrong. If he was a decent person, he’d at least admit something was going on that he’d rather not talk about. I would accept that.

I wouldn’t like it, but I’d accept it.

But no. He has to act like he’s an invulnerable superman who never cracks or flinches when life comes at him.

Just like he refuses to admit he’s not a fan of flying.

Whatever.

It’s not my worry.He’snot my worry.

I can go through my regular life without letting his moods and whims affect me. It’s a good life, and it’s mine. I don’t need to mess it up for a man. For any man.

Not evenhim.

Despite my mental pep talk, I’m still more upset than I should be as another half hour passes in silence.

How stubborn can a man be?

I’m sitting right here, and he knows I want to hear about whatever’s wrong.

Why can’t he open up just the tiniest crack and let me in?

It hurts that he won’t. Hurts far more than it should. Eventually it hurts so much that the tears welling in my eyes simply won’t stay put.

One and then another slide down my cheek.

I sit motionless as one of the tears clings to my skin and slides all the way down my throat into the neckline of my dress. Isaac doesn’t appear to be paying attention to me right now, but if I start wiping away tears, he’ll notice for sure.

That thought upsets me even more. Three more tears slip out before I can stop them.

I lean down to fumble in my bag like I’m searching for something and use that opportunity to give my face a quick wipe.

When I sit up, I’m proud of my success at hiding my silly breakdown.

Isaac closes his laptop with a sigh, leans over to reach for something in his case, then straightens up with a paper napkin in his hand.

He hands it to me without a word.

A little sob escapes my throat as I take it and wipe a couple more tears and my nose, which has started to run.

He gives me a sidelong look.

“I’m fine,” I grit out, scowling at him.

He gives a dry huff of unsmiling amusement. “I’ve got to admit that it is very annoying for someone to say they’re fine when they’re obviously not. No wonder you’re so pissed at me.”

“I’m not pissed. I’m worried.”

“I know.” He rubs at his face and slouches in his seat slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not expecting some sort of outpouring of feelings. I just want to know what’s wrong with you. Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because...” He doesn’t finish the thought. “It doesn’t matter why now. My grandfather is really sick. They took him to the hospital this afternoon. I’m not sure what I’m flying back home to. I should have just told you earlier.”

“Oh no.” I’m still sniffing and mopping at my face with the napkin. It’s one of those big, softer kinds—a luxury version of a paper napkin. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. Do you know what the health issue is?”

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