Fly Away with Me

by Susan Fox

  “I, uh . . .”

  “Good night, Aaron.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  There was flying and then there was flying, Aaron thought as the Airbus touched down on the runway at Ottawa’s Macdonald-Cartier International Airport. Being a passenger in a cramped seat in a sardine-can jet for the four and a half hours from Vancouver to Ottawa was a very different experience from piloting a single-engine seaplane in the scenic Pacific Northwest.

  Everything was so much simpler and cleaner in his world. No hustle and bustle of a jam-packed, climate-controlled huge airport. No waiting among hundreds of other passengers for luggage to arrive on a conveyor belt.

  Finally, his battered duffel came around—a bag that weighed only twenty pounds but had turned out to be two inches too long for a carry-on. He’d resented paying the checked-luggage fee on top of all the other expenses he was incurring. The last-minute flight booking, the hotel, the taxi rides.

  He stood in the taxi lineup. Was he crazy to be doing this?

  When his turn came, he tossed his duffel in the trunk and climbed into the backseat. He gave the name of the hotel and started to provide the address, but the driver cut him off with an impatient, “Yeah, I know,” as he swung out to join the flow of traffic.

  Aaron did up his seat belt and tried not to be impatient himself. He couldn’t wait to see Eden, yet he wasn’t sure she’d be happy he had come. They hadn’t spoken in over a week, since that one phone call that might have changed his life.

  First, there’d been the sheer joy of hearing her voice and feeling connected to her. As they’d continued to talk, it had dawned on him that he’d never felt that kind of closeness with another human being. Well, other than his sister, but that was a completely different kind of closeness. With Eden, he felt desire. Lust, yes, but also the desire to have her sitting beside him holding his hand as they talked. The desire to go to bed with her and to wake and see her lovely face on the pillow next to his.

  Even the desire to spill his guts, to share crappy stories from his past that he’d never spoken about before. The truth had been sinking in—that when it came to Eden, his defenses were down—when she had finished the call by saying he was a good guy with a lot to offer and he didn’t have to live his life alone. And then she’d hung up before he could protest.

  His first reaction had certainly been to protest, because the past had taught him it was stupid to dream about sharing his life, about loving and being loved. His mom and then his grandparents had smashed that dream, and even his sister preferred to be independent and poor than to bring Ariana and live with him. But Eden was right that he could care and commit. Miranda might reject his efforts and hurt his feelings, but he would never, ever give up on her.

  Damn Eden anyway; her words had sparked thoughts, desires, that were insidious. They wound their way through his mind and heart like blackberry vines; once they’d started to grow, they were virtually impossible to rip out. They bore prickles but also the promise of juicy, flavorful fruit. There was nothing like those ripe blackberries picked off the vine in August, warm from the sun.

  He’d even screwed up his courage one night on Lionel’s deck, when it was just the two of them and they’d both had a couple beers, to break the guy code of not talking about emotions. “So I guess I have feelings for Eden,” he’d said. “But I can’t see anyway it’d work out.”

  Lionel, after a few minutes’ rumination, had said, “You liked flying. You went after it, over to Victoria to qualify for your license.”

  Wincing, Aaron had replied, “And look how that turned out. If I hadn’t gone, I could’ve stopped Miranda from dropping out of school and running away to that loser in Vancouver.”

  Another couple of minutes, and then Lionel had said, “If she hadn’t run, she’d never have met Ariana’s dad.”

  And there’d be no Ariana, which was unthinkable. “So you’re saying there’s no telling how things’ll work out?”

  “Don’t know exactly what I’m saying,” Lionel admitted. “Just, sometimes, you know you have to do something. Like me leaving California ahead of the draft.”

  Yeah, sometimes you knew you had to do something. So here Aaron was, in late June, chasing the promise of—No, Eden had made no promises. Not even hinted that she might like to pursue a relationship with him. Aaron, the man who’d locked his heart against everyone but Miranda and Ariana, had cracked open that lock based on not even a hint, just a friendly comment offered by a woman who was as firmly tied to her family and life in Ottawa as he was to his on the West Coast.

  “Certifiably insane,” he muttered under his breath.

  The taxi driver cast him a wary look but didn’t speak.

  Insane or not, Aaron didn’t want to be a guy who gave up without even trying. He’d taken a week off work during their busiest season. Jillian would handle the majority of the flights, which her seven-year-old son wouldn’t be happy about, and Aaron had brought in their backup pilot: an older, semiretired guy from Victoria who was happy to spend a week on Destiny.

  “Here’s your hotel,” the driver said.

  Aaron glanced out at the yellow-fronted chain hotel he’d chosen for its price and its location close to Eden’s address. He’d been too occupied with his thoughts to get any impression of Ottawa as they’d driven in. He paid the driver, went inside and checked in, then went upstairs to a room decorated for functionality.

  He’d traveled across the country without being sure of his welcome, afraid if he’d called first, Eden would have told him not to come. It was midafternoon. Likely she’d be at her office. He’d try her cell first, and if she didn’t answer, he’d call the Butterworth Foundation.

  But she did answer, on a breathy note of surprise. “Aaron?”

  “Hi, Eden. How are you?”

  “Uh, I’m fine. Good.” She sounded flustered. “How are you?”

  “That’s kind of a long story. Do you have plans for the evening?” He held his breath.

  “Plans? Tonight? You mean you want to arrange a time to talk on the phone?”

  “I was hoping for in person. Over dinner.”

  There was a lengthy pause and then she said hesitantly, “You’re not in Ottawa?”

  “I just checked into a hotel around the corner from your apartment.”

  “You’re kidding!” Now he could hear excitement, and it gave him hope. “You’re really here? I thought you never left Destiny Island? Well, I mean except for all the flights you take, but... oh, you know what I mean.”

  “I know. And yes, I’m here. Are you free for dinner?”

  “I, uh . . .” He heard her take a breath and he held his own again until she said, “Yes, I am.”

  He did a fist pump. “What would you say to eating in, at your place? I’ll bring a bottle of wine and we could order delivery from wherever you like.”

  “Eating in? Ottawa has a lot of good restaurants.”

  “I’m sure it does.” But he wanted to have a private conversation. Besides, he was curious to see her apartment. Fudging a little, he said, “It’s been a long day of travel. I’d kind of like a quiet evening in relaxed surroundings.”

  “Oh, of course. We can do that. Uh, do you like Thai?”

  “Sure do.” Before she could change her mind, he suggested a time and told her he’d see her then. Hanging up, he sighed with relief. One hurdle had been crossed.

  With a couple of hours before it was time to shower and dress, he headed out to explore Eden’s hometown. He decided to start with the downtown core, not much more than a kilometer away, and set out on foot.

  Ottawa was gray. Some of the architecture was interesting, the historic buildings were impressive, and the Rideau Canal was appealing. It was definitely an old, well-established city compared to vibrant Vancouver and picturesque Victoria. It struck him as big and bland, with little personality and few touches of color. Even the sunny sky was a uniform washed-out grayish-blue rather than the vivid color he was used to.

 
“Give it a fair shot,” he muttered to himself when he was back at the hotel, showering. He was being unreasonable, almost like he’d made up his mind to dislike Ottawa, when maybe he should be convincing himself to fall in love with Eden’s city. It wasn’t like Destiny was perfect. After all, over the course of a year there were more rainy, gray skies than bright blue ones. And Ottawa had provided him with everything he needed this afternoon. He had a bouquet of multicolored flowers from a florist and a bottle of Ontario riesling from a wineshop. He’d bought a decent shirt and a pair of pants because he figured his usual jeans and tee wouldn’t convey the right message.

  Whatever that message might be. He’d spent some time trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say to Eden. It would go something along the lines of: I care for you and I think it might be serious. Is there any chance you feel the same way? If so, can we give it a chance and see where it might go?

  But then what? Could he see Eden leaving her fragile mom, her stressed-out dad, the job she loved, the city that had always been her home? Could he imagine leaving Destiny, moving more than four thousand kilometers away from his sister and niece, and giving up the business he’d built and loved so much?

  First steps, he reminded himself. There were too many unknowns to think beyond tonight. Maybe Eden would tell him to get lost. She’d reiterate that he’d been fine for a fling but wasn’t her type of man at all. It was true that in some ways he wasn’t. But in other ways he was pretty sure he was.

  He studied his reflection in the mirror. The slim-fitting charcoal pants looked okay with his one pair of black shoes, but the white shirt with denim-blue stripes looked unfinished without a tie—and no way was he wearing a tie. He undid the cuffs and rolled them up his forearms, feeling more himself. Probably he should have had a haircut, but it was too late now. As he gathered up the wine and flowers, he wondered if Eden was primping for him.

  Walking the short distance to her building, he thought he liked this area better than the downtown. There was an interesting combination of old buildings and new, of offices, shops, restaurants, and residential space. She lived in a sand-colored, modern high-rise made of stone, brick, and glass. It had commercial space on the ground floor and apartments above. She was renting, he knew. She’d told him that she and her ex had shared this two-bedroom condo and she’d stayed on when Ray moved out, but that she planned to look for a smaller, cheaper apartment when she had some spare time.

  At the front door, he punched in her code and she buzzed him in.

  He took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, and when he strode down the hall toward her apartment, she opened the door. If she wore a suit to work, she’d changed out of it and was now wearing a short-sleeved top in a brown, white, and black pattern over leg-hugging black capris. Her hair was loose on her shoulders and she wore the earrings she’d bought on Destiny.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, just as she said, “Aaron, this is such a surprise.”

  They both laughed awkwardly as he stepped past her, into the apartment. “It’s good to see you,” he said, handing her the bouquet and leaning down to kiss her.

  Her lips met his in a quick, warm press, and then she stepped back. “I’ll put the flowers in water.” She hurried to the small kitchen.

  He walked into the large room, gazing around. It was open plan: a sitting area with lots of windows and a balcony off it; a dining area with a four-seater glass-topped table; and a small kitchen set off by a granite-topped island with two barstools. The design lent an air of spaciousness, as did the windows, the off-white paint on the walls, and the hardwood floors. Her furniture was attractive and comfortable-looking. There were a few nice paintings on the wall, a couple of potted plants, and a bookcase, but no clutter. “I like your place.”

  “Thanks,” she said, her back to him as she snipped the stems of the flowers. “It’s just your basic Ikea.” She came around the island carrying the flowers in a simple glass vase, which she put on the coffee table. “These are pretty. Thank you.” She twisted her hands together and said, in a bright, artificial tone, “So, what brings you to Ottawa?”

  “You.”

  Her eyes flared wide. Panic? Wonder? He couldn’t tell. “Me?” It was more a squeak than a word, and her hands stopped twisting and locked together.

  “Maybe we should open this.” He held up the wine bag.

  She swallowed. “Maybe we should. Oh, I phoned in an order for Thai food.” She grabbed the bag from him and again scurried for the kitchen.

  “Sounds good.”

  “You’re probably hungry.” Stuff clattered as she yanked open a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. “I’m sure you’ve had lots of hours of travel. It must be strange for you being a passenger.” As she spoke, she opened the wine, took down two glasses, and filled them generously. Her actions were jerky, matching with the babbly flow of words.

  Aaron stepped up to the other side of the island and took a glass.

  Eden didn’t touch hers but instead, standing across from him separated by an expanse of granite, raised her gaze to meet his eyes. “You came because of me?” Her amber eyes held a touch of softness, maybe vulnerability.

  “Take this.” He gave her the wineglass he was holding and picked up the other one. “Come sit down.” When he walked over to the couch, she followed and they sat side by side, close but not touching. He raised his glass in a toast. “It’s good to see you.”

  Her eyelashes flicked down and then up. “Yes.” She touched her glass to his and then drank. “Aaron, why are you here?”

  * * *

  Eden couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d been in a state of shock since she’d learned Aaron was in Ottawa. What was going on? Her emotions were in turmoil. How could she know how to feel until she knew why he’d come?

  She’d asked, and his response was to take a long, slow drink of wine. She had a can’t-breathe, every-nerve-trembling sensation, waiting for his answer. What did she want him to say? Her free hand rose to her lips to nail-bite, and she forced it down and tucked it under her thigh.

  He put his glass on the coffee table and turned toward her. “After you left”—he spoke as slowly and deliberately as he’d drunk the wine—“and especially after we talked on the phone, I realized how I feel about you is different. It’s something I’ve never felt, not for any other woman. I care, Eden.”

  Breath sucked into her lungs, and to her astonishment, moisture filled her eyes. He cared. Enough that he’d come here to say it in person. She blinked back the tears. When they’d spoken on the phone, she’d figured he wasn’t ready for love; she’d been sure a relationship between them could never work. She shouldn’t want him to care. She shouldn’t have feelings for him.

  But she couldn’t lie to him. Knowing she was taking a huge, risky, maybe stupid step, she admitted, “I care, too.”

  Only then did she realize how tensely he’d been holding himself. He let out a breath and his face relaxed, a smile bloomed. “Good. That’s very good.” He took her glass from her hand and put it down, and then he caught her face between both his hands and kissed her.

  She kissed him back with joy and abandon, moving closer to him, putting her arms around him, running her hands down his back. Reveling in the warmth and power of his body, in the fact of being with him like this after thinking she’d never see him again. But then another reality sank in, and she pulled back, ending the kiss. “But what good can come of it?” she asked. “There are so many issues and obstacles. We can never—”

  The buzz of the intercom made her break off.

  “Don’t say never,” Aaron told her as she buzzed in the delivery person.

  They went to the door together and he insisted on paying. Eden had already set the dining room table and now put the takeout containers on trivets. Aaron said, “I’ll get the wine.”

  Sitting, she watched him walk the few steps, his familiar muscular body clad in the kind of clothing she’d never seen him wear before. It was disconcerting, havin
g him here. Aaron in Ottawa; Aaron in the apartment she’d shared with Ray. She was glad for the redecorating she’d done after the breakup. Kelsey had told her to throw out all the old stuff and start fresh, but no way would Eden’s practicality or her budget allow for that. Instead, she’d bought a few new pieces to replace things Ray had taken and rearranged the rooms to give the place a new look. It was hers now, a sanctuary that no man other than her dad had visited until tonight.

  Aaron put the wine bottle and glasses on the table and sat down across from her. “Don’t say never,” he repeated, taking them back to their conversation before they’d been interrupted.

  “All right. At least not until we’ve talked it through.”

  He made a rueful face. “Guess we can’t just go with the flow and enjoy it?”

  Despite her anxiety, her lips twitched. “Maybe you can, but I can’t.” She huffed out a breath. “Which is only one of the complications. We’re such different people.”

  He opened containers and dished food onto their plates. “Different doesn’t mean incompatible. You learn from me, I learn from you. It worked fine when you were on Destiny.”

  “A week isn’t . . .” What? A lifetime? What were they talking about here?

  “If it worked short-term, why wouldn’t it work long-term?” He gestured to her plate, where he’d spooned jasmine rice, chicken vegetable curry with coconut milk, spicy prawns, and ginger beef with green beans. “Eat. I’m starving.”

  Obediently, she chose a prawn.

  After they’d both eaten a few bites, he said, “I admit I’ve been a loner. It’s hard to think in terms of, uh, coupledom—is that the word?—rather than being on my own.”

  “I did coupledom with Ray and wasn’t so great at it. I had unreasonable expectations, didn’t make him enough of a priority, and didn’t work at the relationship.”

  Aaron paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Huh. When you talked about him before, I got the impression you thought he was the one at fault.”