Page 191 of We Can't Be Friends

“I’ve never been on a private plane before.”

“Most people haven’t.”

“Don’t ruin my fun. I’m only dating you for your money and because you’re phenomenal in bed.” She swipes a hand down my chin, flicking me a wink.

We climb the stairs into the plane after the pilots take our bags. The sun an ombre of cotton candy. I scheduled an overnight flight, hoping we could sleep the eight hours.

The plane seats ten. Four executive style, two rows of two facing each other. Across the aisle from them are two rows of single seats. Behind the two rows are two couches with enough room to seat two. There is a table in front of the sofa behind the executive seats—all neutral interior with glossed wood finishes.

Chloe sits in the chair by the window. I sit opposite, facing her.

She looks out the window the entirety of takeoff. Once we’re 10,000 feet in the air, she pulls out a book before beating me in back-to-back games of Rummy. Chloe falls asleep a little after ten, four and a half hours left in our flight.

We extended our trip to a full week, enough days to include dinner with my family and to give Emerson and Chloe a few days together. Emerson is clueless to Liam proposing and Chloe flying in.

A month ago, Liam called George and me with his mother’s engagement ring repurposed into a unique piece for Emerson. It’s gorgeous. Her in a ring form.

I accidentally asked him if it wasn’t too soon."I’vewaitedyearstobewith her; I’m not waiting another moment to spend forever with her," he responded.

Chloe, my sister, and Beatrix were tasked with planning a small engagement party—not that there would be anyone else there besides the seven of us. I gave Chloe my card and told her to put everything on it.

Her lips are zipped tight about the ‘party,’ but I’ve caught her on several calls with Audrey and Beatrix laughing.

Chloe keeps her circle tight. I picked up on this when we met, but it makes sense now. Outside of Emerson, she doesn’t have a lot of girlfriends in the city. Adler, her childhood best friend, and her talk monthly on the phone, but that’s it. That’s not a terrible thing—quality over quantity.

She’s terrified of goodbyes. Her loneliness clawing at the threads of the people in her life, waiting for the day that one of those threads is pulled on and that person is gone.

I get it. I do.

It breaks my heart for her that she’s thought this since Aaron, even putting herself into a few situations with shitty people.

CHLOE

Man, do I love a London boy.

I love my London boy.

Sitting across from him at a pub in Kensington, I can’t help but watch him. Rolling the dice and catching a side of him I haven’t seen before. He’s less refined here. Comfortable.

“Audrey is meeting us here with a date? And you knew she was dating someone?” Maybe not.

“We talk.” I raise a shoulder casually.

“Never should have let you become friends,” He takes a sip of his pint.

Setting it down on the table, a pair of hands cover his eyes.

“Guess who,” Audrey says in an accent, more of a deep silly voice.

I look around her and spot Maya. She’s even more stunning than Audrey described.

“My least favorite sibling in the entire world.”

“Ha. Ha.” She drops her hands, wrapping her arms around her big brother. Pecking his cheek with a kiss. “Welcome home.”

Home.

Audrey’s words, as truthful as they are, have my stomach somersaulting. Does Cal wish he was here, home in London? I thought… or felt like Chicago was his home. That maybe I was his home.

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