Page 14 of Revival

“Does she need medical attention?” The flight attendant is all business as her tone switches to one of concern.

“She’s just a little motion sick. The turbulence, you know? She has a sensitive stomach.” I lean in conspiratorially. “Truthfully, she might even be pregnant. Things got a little out of hand before the wedding, if you know what I mean.”

Cortney pinches my waist in retaliation, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I grab her violent little hand and entwine our fingers. “I’ve got you, babe.”

She keeps her face pressed into my back during our short trek down the aisle.

“Why don’t you take the window seat?”

“Thanks,babe.”

I bite back a grin as she curls into her seat. Papers rustle as I pluck the barf bag from the back of the seat and hand it to her. “For your weak stomach.”

She shoos it away. “You can stop playing now. You thoroughly convinced everyone in hearing distance that we weren’t up to any shenanigans.”

“That’s a damn shame.”

“Did you suddenly forget how to string together a sentence?” She shoves the bag back into the seat pocket.

Does she really need me to spell it out?

“Every man on this plane would have traded places with me in a second.”

“Yeah, right.” Cortney laughs. The self-deprecating sound doesn’t sit right with me. I clench my jaw and punch down the swirling rage as the evidence of her ex’s destruction joins the conversation.

“You’ll have to take my word for it. But I can promise you I know the look of a jealous man when I see one.”

“Whatever. Order me a mimosa when the flight attendant comes by, will you?” She situates her headphones back over her ears.

“Sorry, but she thinks you might be pregnant.” I doubt she’ll be served any after our little charade.

Cortney stares at me while my words sink in. Her brown eyes narrow. “Anything else you want to ruin? I’d like to salvage what I can of this vacation that your mere presence hasn’t already wrecked.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

She adjusts her headphones and makes a show of turning her music on. “Good. Then wake me when we land.”

3

Cortney

The first breathof air when I step into the airport is thick and a little suffocating. The difference between the cooler air back in Minnesota and the humidity here is more noticeable than my daydreams prepared me for. Not that I’ve ever been this close to the equator. I didn’t know what to expect.

Spencer walks beside me, looking as unruffled and unbothered as I’ve ever seen him. It’s a far cry from the not-so-glamorous package I have on display.

The cute tank top I picked out just this morning is wrinkled in several places. I wound up throwing my hair into a messy bun during the flight, and at some point, something spilled across my left tit. I’m sure I have Spencer to blame for the unknown spillage on my chest because I have no recollection of how it got there, and I slept for most of the flight. It’s too hot to put my zippered athletic top back on, so I’m resigned to walk around looking a lot less polished than I typically appear in public spaces.

We clear customs, and Spencer insists on carrying both our bags. I’m really not in the mood to complain. If he wants to be all chivalrous for crashing my vacation, he can be my guest. All I care about is checking into the resort so I can ditch him and make my way to the beach until the sun sets. Preferably with a steady supply of cocktails in my hand.

What Spencer does is Spencer’s business. He’s a grown-ass man, and he’s definitely not my traveling companion. The best possible scenario is for the two of us to go our separate ways until we meet up again on the flight home next week.

My smile fades as we exit the airport. A jovial man stands beside a black SUV holding a white sign that reads: Cortney & Sebastian. He’s outfitted in a crisp white shirt and pressed black pants that look entirely too hot for this climate.

Spencer greets the man with a firm handshake and an easygoing tone. “Got the name wrong. It’s Spencer.”

“Spencer. So sorry, sir! I’ll fix it right away.”

As their hands pull away, I notice the crisp bill tucked neatly into the chauffeur’s palm.

---