Page 38 of Crossed Up

We’re on our flight back to Charleston, and normally, I would be spiraling, but right now, I’m exhausted and trying not to panic. For our last night in New York, Rhodes, Wren, Copeland, Lyla, and I all went out to this tiny place someone had recommended and ended up with food poisoning, effectively shredding any hope I had left that I could convince Ly to give us a chance before we return to reality today.

I got away with only some mild symptoms, and I didn’t want my girl suffering alone when it hit because Wren was with Rho, so I brought her back to our room so I could take care of her.

For whatever reason, it hit Lyla and Copeland harder than the rest of us, and they’ve been commiserating since we got back from dinner. I don’t know if it was sharing a bathroom floor with him for most of the night or just them bonding over feeling awful, but they’ve been inseparable all day.

In any other circumstances, I would be out of my mind jealous watching the girl I like be so friendly with another man, but it’s kinda cute seeing them bond. Cope is such a standoffish asshole most of the time. It’s funny to see him making friends with such a sweet girl. God help the woman that willingly takes on his moody ass.

Lyla thankfully fell asleep almost the second we sat down for the flight and hasn’t moved since, but she’s been squirming in her seat for a few minutes, and her face is still really pale and sweaty.

Suddenly, she shoots straight up in her seat, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh no,” her muffled words are barely out before the tiny thing is up and stumbling down the aisle to the bathroom at the back of the plane.

Copeland lifts bloodshot eyes my way and widens them slightly, waving a hand in my direction. My brows furrow, and he scoffs. “Go take care of her, you fucking moron. You want to prove yourself to her? Hold her hair back and wipe her face or something. Just be there so she’s not alone.”

I offer him a chin lift, but before moving to go take care of my girl, I hand him a barf bag and order a ginger ale from a passing flight attendant. My parental instincts kick in when I see how bad he still looks.

Sometimes I forget that before his ex Carly stomped on his heart, my best friend was one of the sappiest motherfuckers I’d ever met. Copeland Hawthorne is a grump with a short fuse, but once you make it past that prickly exterior, he’s as loyal as they come.

Coming to a stop in front of the pocket door, I knock gently. Lyla’s hoarse voice calls out occupied, but the door isn’t locked, so I slip in behind her. The bathroom is just barely bigger than one on a commercial flight, so it’s a tight squeeze with her curled up on the floor and me towering over her.

She barely lifts her head off the balled-up sweater she’s resting on to look at me, immediately letting out a long groan. “Ugh, please go away. You don’t need to see any more of me being sick.”

Ignoring her grumbles of irritation, I carefully step over her shaking form to run some paper towels under the tap, wringing them out so they don’t get her shirt too wet.

One glance around the bathroom nearly has me huffing in frustration at the small space. I want to take care of her without literally being on top of her and making her feel worse.

I take a chance and get down on one knee behind her, doing my best to ignore the shiver wracking her body when I sweep her long hair up and off the back of her neck. There’s a ponytail holder on her thin wrist, so I gently take it off and pull her long hair up into some semblance of a bun on top of her head before laying the wet towels on her neck and forehead to cool her down.

Lyla moans on the floor beneath me, cracking her tired, bloodshot eyes open just enough so I can see the tears that want to spill over.

“Even if we aren’t together, I still care about you, Ly. You could be nothing more to me than Crew’s nanny, and I would still worry. You’re important to him, which means you’re important to me. No matter what. But angel? You are and always will be more to me.”

I watch her resolve crumble with quiet satisfaction, hoping she won’t fight me again while she’s feeling so bad. “Do you want to stay in here or try to go back to our seats, angel?”

“I just want the world to stop spinning, Daddy.”

My whole body tenses at her garbled words because what the fuck? Why would she call me that? More importantly, why the hell did it turn me on? I’ve had plenty of people call me Daddy Aidan since Crew was born, but I’ve never reacted like this.

One glance down at myself shows me I’m not imagining things. I’m hard as a rock at the worst possible time because Lyla called me Daddy.

She’s obviously half delusional and probably won’t remember saying it, but I sure as fuck won’t be forgetting anytime soon. Definitely a topic to broach later, preferably not when she’s just spent fourteen hours vomiting and after she gives up on the whole ‘I can’t be with you right now’ nonsense.

Up until she got sick, Lyla had been doing her best to put distance between us, and even though I promised things wouldn’t be weird if she called it off, they’ve been a little weird. How can they not be when her breathy moans have been playing on a constant loop in my mind since the first one I heard fall from those pretty pink lips? Or when every time I look at my son’s nanny, I see her bent over with that perfect pussy in the air, begging me to fuck her.

Shaking off the lustful memories of our night together, I smooth back a few errant strands of hair that escaped her messy bun. She’s basically asleep on the floor now, so I scoop her up, being extra careful not to jostle her too much. I don’t think I’m all that successful because she whimpers, a single tear escaping and tearing my heart wide open.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I’m going to bring you back to our seats and if you need to throw up again you just tell me, okay? Trust me to take care of you.”

Her lack of response makes my throat tighten with anxiety, and as soon as I get her buckled in, I’m using the plane’s wifi to message our group chat for advice.

Me

Do you think doc would take a look at Ly if I bring her in when we get home?

Future Mrs. Gray

It would have to be unofficial, but yeah probably. Everything okay?

Wren’s Stalker

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