Page 43 of From Air

“Oh, you’llloveit.”

“Says the pilot.”

“Well, I’m bummed. Had you given me more notice, I would have flown us down to Miami.”

“It’s fine. I’ll survive. If I can dive in the ocean and swim with sharks, I can survive a plane.”

“For sure.” She dries her hands and winks.

“Survive what?” Will saunters into the kitchen in his black activewear for his tai chi class.

“Jamie’s flying for the first time this weekend.”

“Seriously?” He narrows his eyes at me before opening the fridge.

“Yes. Seriously. Let’s just state the obvious—I’ve lived a sheltered life. I have a lot of firsts left to experience.”

“You’ll love it,” Will assures me.

“See?” Maren grins, brushing past me. “Fitz will say the same thing too.”

“Fitz jumps out of planes. I don’t think he’s qualified to rate flying when you stay in the aircraft.”

Will and Maren laugh while I fish my phone out of my purse.

I message Melissa to let her know I’ll book my ticket before I go to bed, and then I head upstairs to shower, but Maren beats me to it. As I turn, Fitz exits his bedroom, pulling on a blue-and-orange Marmot hoodie over a white T-shirt.

“Hey,” I say in an unavoidably breathy voice while giving him a tight smile.

“Hey.” His gaze slides down my body.

I clear my throat. “Are you in for the night?”

He shakes his head, taking his sweet time, returning his gaze to mine. “Bowling with Gary and Evette.”

“Bowling?”

“It’s a heavy ball with finger holes, ten pins—”

“Fitz, I’m going to knock out your pretty teeth if you don’t stop mocking me like I was born yesterday.”

He gives me a shit-eating grin. “You think my teeth are pretty?”

“Have fun bowling.”

The bathroom door opens. “It’s all yours.” Maren adjusts her robe’s sash.

“Thanks.” I step toward the door.

“Fitz, did Jamie tell you she’s flying for the first time this weekend? She asked me to go, but I can’t. I told her she’d do just fine.”

I close my eyes.Thanks, Maren.

“Is that so? What were you ... born yesterday?”

“Be nice,” Maren scolds on her way to her room. “If I lived in Miami, I probably wouldn’t have any desire to leave either.” She shuts her bedroom door.

“Where ya going?” Fitz’s eyebrows slide up his head while he rests his shoulder against the wall, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Freshly showered Fitz with damp, messy hair is too much for my ovaries. His face has a little more dark scruff than usual today, and his playful gaze makes me squirm.

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