Page 14 of Never the Bride
He laughs, and maybe it’s the turbulence, but my stomach dips with a thrill.
“I’ll flag down the flight attendant and tell her to forget about it, then.” He sits taller, pretending to look for her.
I thought the conversation would go a different way. I thought he’d be arrogant and braggy about saving me or super condescending about the whole thing. But there’s a familiar sweetness to him that puts me at ease, making me grateful I fell into his arms.
“Seriously, though. Thank you for helping me. Most people would’ve just watched.”
He nods to the other passengers. “Most people did just watch, except for the few videoing it all. You should be viral by the end of the day.”
“I’ve always wanted to go viral.”
“How long have you had diabetes?” There’s a genuineness to his expression that makes it easy to answer.
“About six years.”
His eyes widen with interest. “Six years, really?”
“Long enough that it doesn’t typically affect my day-to-day life. I’m usuallyveryresponsible with my health. I’m embarrassed you saw me like that.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.”
I glance down, feeling the full weight of my humiliation. The flight attendant said she administered oxygen. Oxygen isn’t sexy. Neither is hypoglycemia. “I appreciate you being kind about all of this, but I know deep down, my helplessness was probably annoying and the last thing you wanted to deal with on your flight.”
“Youknow?” His lips lift with amusement.
“Well, yeah.” I shrug. “I know how men think. There’s no room for error with the men in my life.”
“Then you surround yourself with the wrong kind of men.”
“I haven’t met any other kind.”
“Never? You’venevermet any other kind of man?”
“Not that I can recall.”
My answer makes him smile, and something about the way he looks at me makes me want to sayuntil now. ‘I haven’t met any other kind of men until now.’
This guy is the unicorn.
Sincerity drips from his every expression.
And suddenly I feel something—a longing maybe. A desire to know what a good guy is really like. But instead, I shift the conversation to something safer. Easier. Something that doesn’t terrify me at my core.
“So I’m assuming you’re a doctor, then?”
“Nope. Just a guy who reads too many in-flight safety pamphlets.”
My brows lower in skepticism, prompting him to answer seriously.
“My best friend growing up has diabetes, so I kind of knew what to do.”
“I mean, I wasn’t conscious, but it seemed like you were great under pressure.”
“Thanks, I’ll put that on my Tinder profile. ‘I’m great under pressure, says the woman who was lightly unconscious.’”
This sparks a laugh from me. “That sounds bad, like you gave me a date-rape drug or something.”
“You’re right.” He frowns, and it’s adorable. “I guess I can’t use it in my profile.”
