Page 38 of Reconnected Hearts
In other words, fate is a cruel thing.
“Lover’s spat got worse, huh? Your girl can’t even stand to sit next to you anymore.” The man in front of me, the very same charmer with a knack for words from the first flight, has turned around with a smirk after noticing Lucy a few rows up.
He’s lucky I’m too tired to bicker with him, because I’ve got a few good jabs that I could throw his way right about now—”no-good sleaze,” “sexist piece of shit,” “baldie.”You get the point. I’m taking the high road this go-around.
“She’s not my girl.”
The man narrows his eyes at me, then turns back around in his seat with an annoyed hum.
A win is a win, I guess.
CHAPTER21
LUCY
The entire plane ride, I sit in complete agony. Noah’s eyes never look away from the back of my head—I can feel it. I don’t get up to use the bathroom even once out of fear that he will say something to me. Usually, I love confrontation. But the thing is,I’musually the one doing the confronting. Being on the other end isn’t so fun—so I’d assume. I don’t know. I’ve never been confronted by anyone besides my mother. I remain frozen in my seat, my neck growing sorer by the second because I simply refuse to move it.
When we land, I take advantage of the aisle seat and leap up, grab my belongings, and scramble to get out of there quickly.
But I forgot about Baggage Claim.
As opposed to the controlled hunting ground of the plane, the baggage claim is free range. There’s nothing stopping Noah from finding me and causing a scene, right here in front of everyone.
Please, God, if you exist, don’t let him approach me.
I find a bench with as much shadowy coverage as possible. My course of action is to hide until I can sneakily grab my bag and escape without him knowing I was ever here.
Naturally, that’s wishful thinking.
God thinks my life is one big practical joke. I exist for his entertainment and his entertainment only, which becomes painfully clear when I see Noah staring at me from across the way.
Avoid eye contact at all costs. Read your book. Everything is fine.
Little Womenis fascinating, so fascinating that I stare at the same page for five minutes because my stomach is rolling and rumbling so uncomfortably that I can’t focus on anything but the raging nerves making my heart pound. I must look so stupid, holding an old, raggedy book five inches away from my face like an undercover detective in one of those old mystery movies.
My curiosity eventually gets the best of me, and I peek over the top of the book, just about jumping out of my skin when I see Noah is no more than five feet away and moving even closer.
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaim, jolting so violently that my book falls into my lap and snaps shut without giving me time to save my place. I glare down at it for a moment, then direct my glare to Noah instead. It only lasts a moment, though, because I see the apologetic expression on his face and remember that if anyone has a reason to be mad, it’s most certainly him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he tells me softly, stopping a pace or two away. He gestures to the empty seat next to me, as if asking for permission, and I don’t even hesitate in nodding.
He’s not mad. I can’tbelievehe’s not mad.
We sit in a strange silence for a while. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not easy either. I don’t want to say anything out of fear of making it worse, so I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
And finally, he speaks.
“Why do you likeLittle Womenso much, Lucy?”
I blink in surprise. Of all the things I’d been expecting—all the questions I thought he might ask—that one wasn’t on the list. In fact, I don’t thinkanyonehas ever asked me that. I’m not sure that I even know why, but the way he is expectantly looking at me compels me to answer. He deserves this at the very least.
“Well…” I clear my throat and run my clammy palms along the thighs of my jeans. I can’t remember ever feeling this anxious before. This is the test of a lifetime. No take-backs, no redos. “I guess it’s because of the story itself. It’s so ahead of its time and yet, the tale withstands the entire history of womanhood. Today, ten years ago, a hundred, a thousand. It’s always been the same. Every day for women is a puzzle to be solved, and it can be so exhausting. I guess I just like the idea that Jo outsmarted the puzzle. She became the gamemaster. Her ending isn’t a ‘soulmate,’ it’s success. She took the mold created for all women and changed it into something different—something better.”
Noah thinks for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine. His expression gives nothing away. I guess I spoke too soon when I came to the conclusion that he has no poker face—he does, and it’s a good one. “So, you like Jo because she married out of strategy, not love.”
