Page 1 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
ChapterOne
NATALIE
People who are scared to fly probably shouldn’t book an aisle seat in the last row next to the lavatory. But a first class-ticket wasn’t in my budget, and this is only the third flight I’ve ever taken, so what do I know about the best location for sitting?
Maybe everyone’s super jealous of my toilet proximity.
Either way, Idoknow my phone battery is at three percent, and my charger is packed in my overstuffed carry-on. Too bad the flight attendant made everyone in the back half of the plane check their bags. If you ask me, I could’ve at leasttriedto shove my bag under the seat. But the lady in the navy-blue pantsuit didn’t ask. She simply attached a baggage claim tag to my hot-pink Samsonite, then parked it with the other luggage on the boarding bridge.
The rest of my worldly belongings are packed up in my apartment back in Rochester, New York, and I just spent a whirlwind three days in Los Angeles, preparing for my big cross-country move. I’m on a flight back to Albany now, but instead of returning to Rochester, I’ll be heading to my hometown for my brother’s wedding.
As I slip into my seat, my insides leap into somersaults. This is partly from nerves, and partly from hunger. The LAX security line was so long, I didn’t have time to grab even a bagel or donut before boarding. Hopefully, my growling stomach won’t disturb the man sitting next to me. He’s already snoring, his bald head propped against a neck pillow and the window.
On second thought, I wish he’d wake up so I could ask him to shut the shade. I don’t want to see out the window. Not even a glimpse of cloud and sky. So I turn away—hey, look! A lavatory!—and beg my racing heart to wind itself down.
Be rational, Natalie.
For the record, I’ve memorized plenty of statistics proving planes are safer than cars. My prefrontal cortex understands the numbers, but my lizard brain doesn’t believe me. I even chose a college knowing I wouldn’t have to fly to get there. The University of Rochester is a five-hour bus ride from my hometown. So during the past six years of undergraduate studies, nursing school, and internships, I never had to board a plane to get to from there to Abieville. Of course, this won’t be the case once I move to Los Angeles, but I can’t let my fear of flying stop me from living.
Well, Icould, but I won’t.
Slipping my phone from my purse, I see the battery’s dropped to two percent, so I quickly scroll through the new messages that came in while I was in the security line. The first text is from Kasey, my brother’s fiancée.
KASEY: I’ll be at Buttons and Bows for the final fittings by the time you land. Sorry we can’t wait, but I know you’ll join us as soon as you can. Thanks so much for rushing home to be here for Beau and me. My maid of honor is a rockstar!
Yes, I’m the maid of honor for my future sister-in-law, but I’m trying not to think about that right now. Otherwise I’ll start thinking about the best man. The one I haven’t seen since Christmas. That was six months ago, but whenever I flash back to the last time we were together, my heart starts thrumming.
My autonomic nervous system really needs to cool it.
Pressing a hand to my chest, I tell myself that for the next week, I’ll simply avoid Brady Graham as much as possible. Of course, heisKasey’s brother and Beau’s best friend. And we’re both in the wedding party. So I won’t be able to steer clear of him completely. But at least when wearein the same place at the same time, a lot of other people will be around us. Never being alone with Brady means no risk of any more slipups.
No matter how much you might want to slip up.
All right. There goes my autonomic nervous system again. Blowing out a breath, I text Kasey back.
ME: Best bride ever! I love you!
Next, I check the unread message below Kasey’s. It’s from my mother, naturally.
MOM: Good morning! Everyone is so excited to see you, even if it’s only for one week. I know you’ll be busy with the wedding, but while you’re in town, do try to see Grantly Bender. He’s such a nice young man. Did you know he’s a lawyer now? Anyway, safe travels, sweetheart. Don’t be too nervous. LOL!
For the record, my mom isn’tlaughing out loudat the idea of me being safe or nervous. To her, LOL meanslots of love.I discovered this a couple years ago when she texted that lightning from a winter storm had struck the tree in our front yard. Our old rope swing burned to a crisp. I was just starting nursing school then, not exactly using the swing anymore. Still, I couldn’t figure out why she’d be LOL’ing about lightning.
ME:I’m all good. I love you, Mom!
I hit send, then fire off “I love you”texts to both my dad and my brother, Beau. Sending “I love you” texts to my family is my pre-flight ritual—something to comfort me before I hurtle through the clouds at five hundred miles per hour. And okay, yes, I’ve only done this once before, three days ago. But thiswill bemy pre-flight ritual from now on, every time I have to travel thirty-six thousand feet above the earth. Which hopefully won’t be often.
My battery drops to one percent just as a flight attendant with a British accent starts his safety spiel at the front of the plane. He points out the exits then shows everyone where to locate motion sickness bags in the seat pockets in front of them. I don’t even look down. Getting airsick would make me never want to fly again.
After demonstrating how to use an oxygen mask—secure yours first before helping others—the flight attendant lifts a fake seatbelt in the air to mimic the fastening.
Who doesn’t know how to fasten a seatbelt?
Still,I decide to tighten mine for good measure. But the closer we get to takeoff, the more my stomach churns. Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck in deep, cleansing breaths. You might think somebody terrified of flying would be riveted by these safety instructions, but I’m opting to swim in the river of denial.
It’s okay. You’re not on a jet, Natalie. You’re back on a beach in Malibu, eating breakfast burritos with Sloane.
I don’t open my eyes again until the flight attendants start their final check of the cabin. They’re slamming the overhead compartments and making sure everyone’s tray tables and seat backs are in place. As the engine grumbles beneath us, my body vibrates with it. No wait, that’s my phone buzzing in my hand.
