Page 61 of In Flight

Thirteen

IWAKE UP LATE THEnext morning. I know it’s late even before I open my eyes.

It feels that way.

Late and bright and weirdly oppressive.

Prying my eyes open, I lift my head and see that Isaac is still in bed beside me. He’s obviously gotten up without my knowing because he’s put back on the T-shirt and pajama pants he wore last night, a cup of coffee is on the nightstand behind him, and he’s reading something on his phone.

He smiles when he sees I’m awake. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” I mumble, dropping my head back to the pillow and pulling the covers up over my face with a groan.

He chuckles and tucks his fingers under the covers, drawing them back down to reveal my face. “How do you feel?”

“Like a melodramatic mufflehead with a hangover.”

He sets down his phone and rolls on his side to face me. “What’s a mufflehead?”

“A mufflehead is me.”

Still laughing, he pulls me forward into a light hug. “Then a mufflehead is a very good thing to be.”

I can’t help but smile at his affectionate tone, but I’m not in the mood or condition for a lot of snuggling this morning, so it’s not long before I pull away and force myself to sit up. “Okay,” I say. “Here’s what I’m thinking about things.”

“I’m listening.” He sounds curious with just an edge of excitement.

“I’m going to stand up. Go to the bathroom. Drink water. Drink coffee. And take a shower.”

For just a moment, I sense something odd from him. Almost like disappointment. But I must be imagining it because he laughs out loud and reaches for his phone again. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

***

THE DAY ISN’T ALL THATgood even though Isaac is as sweet and funny and considerate as I could hope for.

That heavy pit low in my gut doesn’t go away. In fact, it sinks deeper. Grows heavier. And in some ways, Isaac’s thoughtful warmth makes it worse.

We hang out and take it easy until midafternoon. By then I feel basically human. Which is good because we have a flight back to Savannah later today.

I need to go home.

And I won’t be flying back to Boston again anytime soon.

Whatever tenuous space for feeling things out we had for the past couple of months is over now. Once Isaac’s job in Savannah is done, our paths won’t cross at all.

At all.

And I don’t see a solution that’s not going to be wrenchingly hard or completely uproot my whole life.

If we were serious—if we were in love—then maybe the sacrifices required to make this relationship work would be worth it.

I’d give up a lot for someone I love.

But Isaac and I are only getting started. It’s way too early for whole-life changes, and trying a long-distance thing for a while will only prolong the inevitable.

Eventually, if we’re going to have a life together, one of us will have to move.

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