Page 47 of You, Me, and Forever

But this girl, she was big on the feelings. And hurting her wasn’t an option.

So I kissed the top of her head and hugged her tighter.

And I let sleep take us both.

“It’s such a bougie way to travel,” Montana said early the next morning. “Wow. No worrying about your luggage being lost. No worrying about security finding a water bottle in your carry-on and getting tasered and dragged to airport prison.” She held up her phone and took a selfie of us on the plane, just before we took off. “Vi and Blakely are going to die that I’m on this plane right now.”

I chuckled as Whitney, our flight attendant, came by to let us know she’d be bringing breakfast as soon as we were up in the air.

“Do you get taken to airport prison often?” I raised a brow as Walker, our private pilot, came over the speaker and told us to prepare for takeoff. Montana turned her phone off and tucked it in her purse.

“Well, no. But you know, they’re always shouting in that line. Reminding you that if you have a water bottle, or you don’t pull out your laptop—there will be serious consequences.”

I laughed. “Whitney won’t be giving you any consequences. We’ve got a seven-hour flight, and you can relax.”

“Did you always have money? Growing up I mean?”

I nodded. “Yep. Both of my parents came from very affluent families, and financially I wanted for nothing. But keep in mind, that doesn’t mean that life is perfect.”

“Well, I get that. But I imagine it’s easier to deal with the hardships of life when you’re not wondering where your next meal is coming from.” Her voice was teasing, but I also didn’t miss the way her gaze locked with mine.

“Did you worry about your next meal when you were growing up?” I didn’t hide the concern from my voice. Thinking of a young Montana stressing over money at a young age didn’t sit well with me.

“Oh, no. I feel very fortunate for the life I’ve had. But my father and I lived paycheck to paycheck most of my childhood; however, with him being a chef, he could make fabulous meals on a shoestring budget. We didn’t go on fancy vacations or anything, but we always had fun. We’d play cards and board games and go out on the water in the kayak. We’d paint and read and just hang out together, you know? My childhood was a magical one.”

Wow. Not many people can say that. Me included.

“That’s pretty cool. I don’t think my family has ever played a board game. We’ve played tennis and golf, and we get ridiculously competitive. My mom, Samuel, and I would watch movies together occasionally. But we had a large staff, and my brother and I spent a lot of time together.”

“You and Samuel are close?”

“Very. My brother is the best. We’ve always been close. But he’s been working hard since we were young, chasing this approval from my father. It’s an exhausting task, but he’s finally made it.”

“He’s a surgeon?”

“He is. And a brilliant one. Though I question if he’s actually happy with the choices he’s made. He and I discuss other options for him often.” I paused when Whitney set our coffees down in front of us, along with a basket of muffins and a fruit platter.

“‘Other options’?”

“Yes. He’s working crazy hours, and after being so driven for so long to get here, I think he’s questioning if it was worth it. If this is the life he actually wants. I’d just like him to know that he has options. I’m proud of him regardless of what he chooses.”

“You’re a good brother, Myles. I’m sure he’s very proud of you.”

“I actually think he is. He encouraged me to drop out of medical school when I’d shared how miserable I was. My brother is the reason I can’t fully give up on my family. He desperately wants us to be united.” It was the truth. I was more than ready to dip out from the madness many times, but Samuel would join our dad in pushing hard for these constant reunions of sorts. Holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, funerals.

“He wants your family to stay close,” she said, tearing off a piece of the muffin and popping it in her mouth. “It seems doable, right?”

I chuckled at the honesty of the question.

“My father is a narcissist. He’s judgmental, which is annoying enough, but then his actions are never held up to a mirror. And that is a hard pill for me to swallow.”

“I get that. It’s sort of like people who live in glass houses and continue to throw stones.” She shrugged, and I had the sudden urge to kiss her. I’d slept with her in my arms for a second time, and I’d liked it. And here we were on this small plane, and I was taking her home with me.

We weren’t dating.

We’d never had sex.

I wasn’t even sure what the fuck this was.

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