Page 56 of Fighting Gravity

“You chose to be selfless, like you always do.”

“I’m tired of always putting the needs of others before myself,” Elle sighed.

Rosie poured wine in both of their glasses. There was a time for cabernet that had fully breathed, but a double emotional emergency was not that time. She raised her full glass. “Cheers to putting yourself first. Finally.”

Elle raised her glass and took a sip. “I don’t know what being selfless looks like, but at least I’m thinking about it. Thinking is more than I ever did on the island. I just busted my ass until Tate swooped in and stole me away. Thinking about change is the first step, right?”

“Definitely.”

Elle cut her dark gaze to Rosie. The intensity of her eyes and the empathy on her face made Rosie fidgety. She knew without prompting that it was her turn to talk. “I don’t trust him. I can’t.” She wondered if Elle would try to convince her yet again that Tate was honorable. Rosie knew who Tate was, and who he couldn’t be to her, despite being a good man.

“Don’t or can’t?” Elle asked. “One is much more final than the other.”

“I don’t trust him because I can’t trust myself.” The tannic wine she’d drunk threatened to come back up. “Two years in therapy, Elle. Then I see a pants-less woman at his house and all that self-work goes down the drain. And it’s nothim. Tate is mostly perfect. He can’t sit with what he considers broken, true; he always has to be fixing, but I know I won’t find a better man. I’m the problem. I don’t want to be so suspicious. I want to see that gorgeous young woman in Tate’s kitchen and hear him say, ‘This is my friend Maisie,’ and think to myself,A friend of Tate’s is a friend of mine. I want to hear from Gigi that Tate was in my office unannounced and think,He was there to surprise me, instead of,He was there to sabotage me.” Rosie shook her head, tears threatening but not falling. “I miss happy, hopeful Rosie.”

Elle’s face pinched in sympathy. “Is she still in there, do you think?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” Rosie’s voice cracked. “I’m so afraid she’s not.”

“I’m so afraid that I don’t know how to live,” Elle shared. “I know how to work. How to live a truly balanced life? I don’t even know where to start. Especially not without Chen.”

Their fears were out in the world now. Rosie wanted to recover her old self; Elle wanted to explore a side of herself she hadn’t seen yet. Though their struggles were different, Rosie felt a deeper kinship with her best friend. “I’m so glad you’re here, Elle.”

“Are you so glad you’re here, though? For a minute there, I thought OrbitAll had brought us dream jobs and dream men. Now I’m not so sure.”

Even with a hollow heart, Rosie wouldn’t go back and circumvent walking into the hangar that first day. She’d tasted real connection with Tate. And learned a very hard lesson.

31

“Fuck, your government kills me.”

Vadim hadn’t even looked up as Tate walked into his office and plunked down in a free chair. Somehow, he’d still known it was him. The pilot’s large body was hunched over the conference table, a six-inch binder open in front of him and three equally large volumes stacked to the side. Tate was sure Vadim hadn’t planned on spending his first few weeks at OrbitAll reading. But U.S. flight regulations were different from European ones, and add the human spaceflight factor? The spin-up would be daunting for anyone less cocky and capable than his new chief test pilot seemed to be.

“Everyone says that.”

“There are so many fucking steps that slow progress. Doesn’t waiting drive you mad?”

He did look up then, fixing Tate with the piercing stare that had the women of OrbitAll whispering in his wake. Except for Quinn, Vadim seemed to take no notice of the fawning female population in the hangar. At the rate he was devouring OrbitAll’s safety management system manuals and the FAA regulatory documents, the man was proving he was there to learn. And eventually fly.

Tate nodded. “Sometimes. Most often, I just have to remind myself—and my team—that the rules are there to keep people safe. Speaking of, where are you at with your FAA certification?”

“I have a commercial pilot’s license in multiple countries, but your government wants me to get adriver’slicense before I can take their exams,” Vadim grumbled.

Tate understood his frustration. Vadim had climbed out of a jet mere weeks ago with one thousand flight hours logged, yet dozens of tests had to be passed and certificates issued before he could legally climb back into a cockpit in California. Then the real work began. The man would need a non-fatal crash-course in being a test pilot. Then an astronaut.

“It’ll be your government soon enough,” Tate reminded him. “And didn’t I catch you drooling over a photo of a Porsche last week? You want your driver’s license.”

“I don’t drool.”

Tate rolled his eyes. Not that Vadim lacked a sense of humor, but he was awfully literal. He didn’t know if the dry wit was cultural or just part of the pilot’s personality.

“Why hasn’t the architect been back?”

Tate’s lips thinned. Bluntness was another strong personality trait of Vadim Baranov’s.

“The hotel project is in for permitting. Rosie might start coming around again once we’re in construction.”

“Might? You mean you don’t know? She’s your girl, right?”

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