Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
I ignored her comment as I folded down the dinette table from the wall and retrieved the folding chairs that went with it.
“I do apologize for that. We’ll have to have you in New York sometime,” Neil said over the rim of his coffee mug. “Sophie and I are looking for a house at the moment.”
I cringed inwardly. How had I forgotten to mention that?
Mom looked from him to me, exhaling the vapor from her e-cigarette. “Sounds serious.”
Neil took a swallow of coffee. “I consider it so.”
I reached across the pass-through for the plate of bacon Mom held out. “So do I. We just went through a lot together this last year.”
“You two seem very happy.” Mom brought the scrambled eggs to the table and sat down. “I’m not going to say I’m thrilled with this, because I’m not. But we’re all adults here, and it’s not my place to tell the two of you what to do. So I’m just going to be grateful that my daughter found someone who loves her and makes her happy.”
“I’m glad.” Neil smiled, and it was the first genuine smile I’d seen out of him since my confession in the car on the drive up. “Because Sophie is one of the best parts of my life.”
Mom sighed and unnecessarily stubbed her e-cigarette on the tabletop out of habit. “Just see that you get her out here to see us more than once a year?”
* * * *
Our changed flight plan meant we had to leave my mom’s house by nine, so in a flurry of hugs and promising to visit again—as well as an awkward handshake for Neil—we were tearing our way down highway forty-one to Marquette. It was the first time I’d truly appreciated how good he was at driving.
I don’t know why it would surprise me, since he owned a car magazine. I’d been absolutely astonished when he’d taken me to his garage at a private track an hour outside of London and shown me the fleet of exotic cars he’d amassed over the years.
We arrived at the tiny airport just as the pilot was finishing up his pre-flight checks. As we walked up the stairway to the jet, Neil’s hand fell to my butt and he gave me a quick squeeze.
Oh, so it was like that.
“It occurs to me,” he murmured against my ear, “that you’ve never officially entered the mile high club.”
“You’re right,” I said with mock surprise. I was well aware of the opportunities we’d missed. Emma had travelled to New York with us on the flight from London. New York to Marquette had been riddled with turbulence, and the pilot had advised us to stay seated the entire time…not that creative things hadn’t been done under a blanket. We’d fooled around the first time I’d flown on his jet, but we’d never gotten a chance to go all the way.
“Are we going to be rectifying that on this flight?” I asked as I stepped inside.
Neil ducked through the door behind me. “Well, let me think. New York to Reykjavik is about six hours, add on five from Marquette, and with the weather conditions…” He paused thoughtfully. “Do you think it will give us enough time?”
“Oh, shut up,” I said with a laugh.
Our flight attendant, Micky, was a very polished, professional man who appeared to be in his early forties. He took our coats and informed us that we’d made a good call on switching our travel plans: “They are supposed to be getting slammed with snow today.”
“So we heard,” Neil told him, dropping into one of the seats to unlace his boots. “Please tell me that the catering company came through. I’d hate to spend ten hours in the air without anything to eat or drink.”
“Everything is on board. Do you have a particular time you’d like the food prepared, or—”
“No, no.” Neil shook his head. “We’ll let you know. For the most part, we prefer to fly undisturbed.”
“I understand you perfectly,” Micky agreed, and disappeared into the forward galley.
I raised an eyebrow at Neil. “He understands you perfectly. Which means he’s used to people getting nasty in midair.”
“That is exactly what that meant.” Neil kicked his boots off and slumped down in his seat. The jet was set up with three rows of two-across seats, like a regular plane. Two flat-screen monitors were installed, so we could watch movies or check our flight’s progress by GPS, and to the rear of the compartment was a small hospitality station. A pocket door led to a compartment with more seats, and a dining area that converted to a bed for overnight flights. The jet was beautiful and comfortable, but practical; Neil didn’t even keep a full-time flight crew, but hired them when necessary.
I took the seat next to him and buckled up while the flight attendant closed the door. “Well, I think our visit could have gone worse.”