by Frost, Sosie
The plane collectively heaved, but they quieted while I stalked the cat.
Which was just the opening the toddler needed to challenge the jet engines for loudest noise on the plane.
“I want a cookie!”
The toddler collapsed to the aisle and punched the feet of the nearby passengers.
This scared the cat who had become disturbingly interested in the terrible smell emanating from the sleeping man’s foot. She gave the foot a sniff and nearly took a chunk out of his toe before the tantrum got the better of her. She bolted, and the passengers collectively groaned.
Adrian’s smooth baritone called to me from his seat, crammed in coach.
“Need any help?” he asked.
It might’ve been a little worse than my average, run-of-the-mill flight chaos, but I hoped things hadn’t gotten so bad that I needed to do a line change and call in the captain.
It been a miserable day for us all, but Adrian took his discomfort in stride. He scrunched down in the middle seat, nearly crushed by the reclined woman ahead of him and the rambunctious teenager behind, kicking the back of his chair.
Gentleman that he was, Adrian contorted his arms into his lap, twisted his legs into what little space he had before him, and did his best to ensure his monstrous frame didn’t crowd the two nuns seated next to him.
I’d learned the one in the window seat was Sister Margaretta, and it was her first time flying. However, we had been blessed by Sister Mildred and her quick reflexes. She’d provided the initiate with an airsickness bag when we’d encountered turbulence.
While my relationship with Adrian had become far more complicated than before, the presence of the elderly nuns had shamed me for planning this trip two weeks ago.
We’d counted the days and realize the earliest I could take a pregnancy test was smack dab in the middle of my schedule and the weekend before the opening of the official Ironfield Forge Training Camp. Adrian hadn’t even asked. He’d booked the flight after double-checking my schedule. His plan included traveling with me to my layover in San Francisco. There, we could book a hotel room, order a pizza, and eagerly await the opportunity for me to pee on a stick before my flight the next morning.
It wasn’t romantic.
It wasn’t even sanitary.
But, two weeks ago, it had sounded like the greatest idea in the world.
Now?
I couldn’t handle anymore disasters.
And it wasn’t just the flight or the turbulence or the fact that we had run out of coffee and the senior citizens in rows A through D were becoming ornery enough to warrant an extra glance from the air marshal.
I dreaded sharing the weekend with Adrian because I already knew the results of the test.
Negative.
And for the first time, it almost relieved me. I wanted the baby more than anything, but I could no longer deny that fluttery bluster of confusion that assaulted me when I was so close to Adrian.
Was it possible to slow down relationship that wasn’t actually a relationship?
Was it even fair to have sex with a man when I wasn’t sure if the night spent in his arms meant something more to me than to him?
And how was I supposed to reveal those doubts and uncertainties to him when he was surrounded by two very old, very excitable Catholic nuns, all too eager to regale him with the happenings around the convent between bouts of airsickness and prayers for the darling child screaming in the aisle?
I hadn’t been to confession in years, but I offered them an extra bag of pretzels. That must’ve counted for some sort of atonement, right?
“Just another day at work,” I said.
I nervously laughed and reached to adjust the pin on my blazer. The wings weren’t there, and I prayed the toddler hadn’t found a sharp weapon to aid in his cookie protest.
Adrian didn’t conceal his headache very well. “I’ve never had it this bad at my job, and that includes the game when I got the injury.”
The dad attempting to corral his toddler pointed at Adrian. “I thought I recognized you. Adrian Alaric. From the Marauders. You’re the one who took the puck to—”
I interrupted him before he committed a sin in front of the nuns.
“A very consecrated site,” I said.
The dad rubbed the weariness from his eyes and scratched a scraggly beard. The leash in his hand pulled taut, and his child’s sprint abruptly ended with a face plant.
“I saw that replay.” He whistled. “I’m surprised you can still walk.”
Adrian was used to autographs, not testicular exams. Still, he smiled before the man asked him to turn his head and cough.
“I’m all better,” he said.
“Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, or skates, I guess. But then again, on days like these with my little guy, a puck doesn’t seem like a bad form of contraceptive.” The dad winced as he realized the nuns had tutted in disapproval. “All part of God’s plan. I’m sure he’s a hockey fan.”
Sister Mildred bristled, insulted. “Of course not.”
Sister Margaretta offered a joyous laugh. “We think he likes football.”
I attempted to be diplomatic. “Most people from Ironfield do too, but we think they will eventually warm up to the Ironfield Forge.”
The father frowned. “The what?”
“The city’s new hockey team.”
The nuns and the man exchanged confused glances and spoke at the same time.
“Ironfield has a hockey team?”
Adrian sighed. The child cried. The calico cat suddenly leapt through the galley, terrifying the flight attendant attempting to make a pot of coffee out of the scattered grounds which had spilled over our counter.
Unfortunately, the commotion awakened the sleeping man with the foot condition in the rear of the plane. He stretched. Yawned. And hoisted his feet further into the aisle. The stench crippled the other passengers. The recirculated air did nothing to alleviate the smell which permeated from his toenails.
Sister Margaretta reached for the airsickness bag again. The toddler tantrumed harder. The flight attendant in the galley abandoned the coffee and escaped to the lavatory, hiding from the parade of senior citizens charging the galley with their canes.
And that was enough for Adrian. He apologized to the nuns as he stood. At least he remembered to duck before he struck his head on the call button. He hunched and offered the nuns the show of a lifetime as he shuffled from the middle seat.
Sister Margaretta ripped off her habit and reached for his tush.
Sister Mildred smacked her with the rosary.
“Temperance, Sister.” She warded away her own impropriety by crossing herself. “And give thanks for the…great works of His creation.”
Adrian worked his magic on the child first, removing his bag from the overhead compartment and fishing in the front pocket until he found a spare puck. He knelt before the kid and flashed a smile that might have snuffed even Satan’s flames.
“Here you go,” he said. “It’s not a cookie, but it’s shaped like one.”
The child quieted. A sigh of peace resonated over the plane, and the blonde haired, blue-eyed cherub seemed satisfied.
But then an evil cackle bubbled from deep within. His eyes darted to the nuns. His eyebrows furrowed.
And with a hardy throw, the toddler morphed from angel to demon, pitching the puck at the sisters.
“Gimme cookies!”
The rubber struck Sister Mildred in the nose. Blood spurted in all directions.
“Oh my!” Sister Margaretta panicked. “I don’t like the sight of blood…”
She didn’t reach for her airsickness bag in time.
Sister Mildred sputtered a Hail Mary and reached deep into the arms of her tunic, somehow revealing a ruler which had passed through security.
I didn’t need to warn the father. First, he guarded his own wrists, then he yanked the toddler away before the nun inflicted her discipline with a quick smack of the ruler.
/>
“Spare the rod—spoil the child!” Sister Mildred’s battle cry was all the more terrifying with blood streaking down her nose.
The nun shook off her friend and bolted into the aisle.
Adrian seized the opportunity to make his move. He rushed to the rear of the plane and approached the sleeping man with the foot infection. With a grunt, he grabbed a fork off a nearby passenger’s dinner plate, stabbed the man’s wadded up sock hidden within his shoe, and cast the sweat-soaked biohazard down the aisle.
The calico went nuts. It pounced for the sock by crashing over an open laptop and tripping Sister Mildred before she conducted an exorcism on the cackling toddler with a bottle of Aquafina and some fervent prayer.
The startled cat yowled, every hair on her body puffing like a porcupine. But Adrian captured her, sweeping her into his arms before helping me to stuff her into the carrier.
This earned him a round of applause from the passengers, though they seemed equally pleased when my co-flight attendant spritzed the sleeping man’s feet with a personal sized bottle of air freshener—an important tool to ensure the galley stayed fresh as a daisy…even if the lavatory didn’t.
Even the nun relented her pursuit of the toddler once sprinkled with water—maybe not holy but bottled from the cool, fresh streams. Both returned to their seats, exhausted and spent.
Within moments, Adrian, the miracle that he was, had solved every problem.
Except one.
I wasn’t pregnant.
And he had no idea.
I retreated to the galley with a painful sigh. What was I supposed to tell him? We’d both been so excited. We’d both worked so hard. And we’d had so much sex.
A lot of sex.
But was it right to worry about something as monumental as a baby when I couldn’t figure out the simplest of questions?
What did I feel for Adrian?
Was it wrong to want more? Was it worse to keep those feelings hidden?
Was it ridiculous to wonder if he shared the same feelings?
Adrian grinned at me, proud of himself for playing hero. He stayed in the aisle, helping Sister Mildred with a proper protocol on how to stop a nosebleed. He was a great source, had all the experience.
Why did he have to be so damned perfect?
“Did you want to land the plane too?” I asked.
“Just trying to make your trip a little smoother,” he said.
“I could use you on my three-day trip next week. I’m getting bounced from here to Seattle and back.”
“You tell me what you need, and I’ll be there.” His words wrapped around me, warm and smooth. “I promise.”
I believed him.
Which was exactly why revealing any feelings for him would only end in pain. What we had together was better than any of my previous relationships, even if it was complicated, messy, and dangerous.
First, we’d land. Then I’d confess that I wasn’t pregnant.
But that was it.
No other secrets. No sneaking under the covers. No stolen kisses or perfect embraces.
We were just friends. And we had to act like it.
I couldn’t risk losing him, or the one man who made me happiest in the world would be the one who ultimately broke my heart.
17
Adrian
Clover face planted onto the hotel bed.
She’d managed to kick one heel off, but the other dandled from her stockinged foot. A jagged run ruined the pair of pantyhose, but I didn’t think she’d noticed yet.
“I officially hate my job…” The pillow muffled her voice. “I’ve never had a flight that bad before.”
I’d had my share of shitty games and losing streaks. Hell, the locker room even suffered from the occasional bout of foot fungus.
But the screaming kids, loose sick cats, and bleeding nuns?
That was all new to me.
“You handled it well,” I said.
“Are you kidding? I nearly jumped out of the emergency exit at thirty thousand feet.”
“…Do they give flight attendants parachutes?”
“Hell no. If they did, we’d never stay on the damned flights.” She hid her face once more. “Or we’d push the problem passengers out the door.”
I joined her on the bed, but she rolled away before I could scoop her into my arms. I pretended I wasn’t disappointed. The last thing I needed was to distract myself with Clover’s warmth, curves, promises…
“Just remember why you took the job,” I said.
“I took the job because I was an idiot.”
“That’s not true.”
She paced the room, rubbing her neck to ease the tension. “I thought I would be traveling the world. Visiting all these exotic cities. Exploring these amazing, fairytale places.”
“You did.”
I didn’t like her defeated laugh.
“You know what I’ve done for the past eight years?” she asked. “I’ve toured, visited, and sampled all the wonderous locales in a dozen international airports. It’s hard to get excited about travel when you only ever see the inside of an airplane.”
“But you’ve been to plenty of places…and you’ve dragged me to most of them.” I rubbed the scar on my elbow from our misadventure in Australia—in which a half dozen beers and a huntsman spider resulted in a broken hotel ironing board and me hiding a massive injury from my trainers. “You’ve traveled farther around the world than anyone else I know.”
“And for what?”
“Presumably fun.”
“Sure, at first, I wanted to see the world. But…now I have. Know what I’ve learned?” She gestured beyond the hotel window. “There’s a Cinnabon in every terminal, and every bathroom soap smells the same.”
“Traveling isn’t so bad. I’m on the road a couple months out of the year.”
“That’s different.”
I crossed my arms behind my head and attempted to relax. Hard to do when her skirt teased the outline of her heart-shaped ass. “At least you don’t hop off a plane and instantly get checked into the boards.”
“But you’re traveling with your teammates. You’re doing something! Something productive. Something constructive.”
“I don’t think you can call the Forge constructive yet.”
She whacked the laminated Wi-Fi instructions and its holder off the room’s desk and into the trash—as destructive as she’d ever get.
“But you will be successful soon enough.” She sighed as she fished the paper out of the can and returned it to its rightful spot. “And you have that reason to get up in the morning. To go to work. To see your energy directed into something meaningful and worthwhile. You work hard. You do everything right. And you’re supposed to be rewarded for that.”
I didn’t like where this was heading. “What’s bothering you, Clover?”
“Nothing.”
Even best friends weren’t immune to that trap. “It’s not nothing. Where did all this come from? Don’t tell me one bad flight has made you rethink your entire career.”
“It’s not just one flight. And it’s not just my career. It’s everything.” She looked away, peeking out of the paisley curtains as if to search for an end to the conversation in the hotel parking lot. “I don’t even know why you followed me here.”
“You know damned well why I’m here.”
“You only have two days before training camp starts. Why would you waste them traveling across the country with me?”
“I don’t consider this a waste. Especially since my schedule will kick my ass once camp starts.”
“Yeah…you’ll be busy.” The air conditioner hummed a little too loud. Fortunately, she knew just where to kick to jostle the motor back in place. “Busy, busy, busy. Always something to do because everyone depends on you. You have responsibilities. Places to be. People to talk to. Problems to solve. Captain Alaric will once again foist the world onto his shoulders and do his best to play superhero on skates.”
/> Jesus. How bad was her damned flight? At least she got to stand up and walk around. I was the one contorted into a goddamned pretzel so I wouldn’t accidentally feel up any elderly nuns.
“Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or do I assume its hormones?” I asked. “Why pee on a stick when you can just piss me off, right?”
Clover fought with the scarf tied around her throat. She dug her fingers into the silken material and ripped, nearly fraying the silk as she pitched it to the ground. Her heels came next. She kicked them away, slamming both into the wall.
Wasn’t like her to throw a temper tantrum.
Especially when we were on the brink of some potentially good news.
Unless…
“Clover.” I attempted to hide the bitter frustration in my voice. “I came with you on this trip so that we could take the pregnancy test together. Is there something you want to tell me?”
She couldn’t look at me, but I saw the tears threatening to spill. “I really don’t know why you came, Adrian. I don’t know why you keep working this hard. I don’t know why you’re always here, trying to help me, to fix everything for me.”
“The reason is you.”
And it didn’t offer her any comfort. She scowled.
“You should just go home,” she said. “You have no time before training camp starts. You can’t show up jet-lagged.”
“I’ll spend my remaining free time however I want.”
“And you decided to randomly cross the country for a joyride?”
“I decided to spend those days with you.”
“And what’s going to happen because of that?” Clover ripped off her blazer with a grunt. “What’s going to happen to us?”
That was a question I didn’t want to answer, a conversation I refused to have, and feelings I would never acknowledge.
“First, we figure out if you’re pregnant,” I said.
“And if I’m not?”
“Are you?”