Page 7 of No One Wants That (Blitzen Bay)

KIT

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said so far.”

Chloe, my seat mate on the plane, is peering at me over her glass of wine. We’re only three hours into the thirteen hour trip from Madrid to L.A. She’s on her fifth glass. I’m on my fourth.

“No, it’s not, Kit,” she says, draining her glass. “I’m just saying that successful relationships require sacrifice.”

“Yes, Chloe, but sacrifice works both ways. I’ve lived in Spain for two years. He can make a sacrifice for once.”

“Yes, sacrifice works both ways, but you kind of changed the game up on him, right? I mean, he’s been honest with you from day one about never wanting to leave Spain.”

I take a long drink. “I get that, but I can change my mind any time I want. Things change. People change. Change is good.”

“I know, but you can’t be mad at him for not wanting to move—”

“I’m not mad at that!” The man in front of us turns around and gives me a warning look. I take a deep breath and lower my voice back to an acceptable plane level. “I’m mad that he gave me an ultimatum. That’s bullshit.”

“That is bullshit.” Chloe sticks her tongue out at the guy in front of us. He glares at her but turns back around. “So are you done? Just like that?”

“I think I am done,” I say, “but it’s not just like that. We’ve been talking about this for six months. I have to do what’s best for me. You told me you did the same thing with the guy you met in Barcelona, right?”

“Which one?” she says, her forehead crinkling up. “Stef or Rob?”

“Remind me again, which one wanted to come back to Colorado with you?”

“They both did. Stef was the one I thought had a chance, but then he came at me with a bunch of requirements.”

“What kind of requirements?”

“Stuff that had to happen to get him to move,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It was too much. I want a guy who will jump in, you know? Like blind love.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels. There’s no such thing as blind love.”

Mitch—the flight attendant who hasn’t taken his eyes off Chloe since she boarded the plane—appears and holds up a wine bottle. “Refill, ladies?”

“Yes, please,” Chloe says, smiling broadly. “And can we have more of that cake if you have any left?”

“For you, I will find some,” he says, topping off both of our glasses.

Chloe glances down as a new text lights up her phone. Her men have been texting her non-stop since she got on the plane.

“Stop looking at your texts,” I say. “You’re never going to be able to leave them behind if you keep talking to them.”

She looks up at me and shakes her head. “At least I’m dealing with my issues. Why don’t you look at your texts?”

“No way. I’m in blissful, wine-induced denial right now. I’m staying here until I get off the plane.”

Mitch reappears and puts two slices of cake in front of us. “The last two pieces for my favorite passengers of all time.”

“Thank you, Mitch,” Chloe purrs—batting her eyelashes a little bit.

He bows slightly and walks back toward the galley.

“Do guys always fall all over you like this?” I say, watching him walk away. “My cousin has that same effect on men.”

“The runaway bride cousin? What’s her name again?”

“Elle. And yeah, men always fight over who gets to make her life better,” I say, laughing. “It’s amazing to watch. She has that innocent-flirt thing going just like you do.”

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