“You need to sleep.”
She glances out of the window, her mouth twisting. “But I’m not tired.”
I check my wristwatch. “When we land, it will be morning in Montreal. If you don’t get some sleep now, you’ll be dead on your feet by lunchtime.”
She looks around. “I’m not so great sleeping in a seat like this.”
Ah, now comes the best part of flying private.
“Come with me.”
I walk towards the back of the plane, feeling her a few steps behind me. When I get to the back of the plane, I open a door, revealing a full-sized bedroom with a king bed and an adjoining ensuite.
“Wow.”
I love that I’ve impressed her. I probably love it a little too much. “You can sleep in here for the rest of the flight.”
She searches my face, taking her time to really look at me. I wonder if I look as exhausted as I feel?
“You take the bed.”
I guess I do.
“Absolutely not,” I snort.
She turns on heel and walks out straight out of the bedroom, returning to her seat. I follow, like she knew I would.
“Cherry—” I start.
She cuts me off. “No. You need the sleep more than me. You’ve got a whole race weekend ahead of you.”
Gosh, she’s stubborn. And so damnconsiderate.
“I’ll be fine. I don’t need to sleep.”
Her arms fold in front of her chest and she leans all the way back in her chair, wiggling her butt like she’s getting ready to hibernate for the winter right where she sits.
“Then neither do I.”
I grind my back molars and she sets her jaw. We’re in a stand-off.
“Cherry, come on,” I soften my voice and try to appeal to her sense of reason. Though I’m not sure she has one of those. “You’ve been sick; I can’t stand the thought of you getting worse.”
She softens at the concern she must see on my face, and I think I may have won.
“Why don’t we share?”
Or maybe she’s just out to kill me.
“What?” I splutter.
She points to the open bedroom door. “That’s a king-sized bed. We can both fit in there.”
Oh, the images her words are conjuring up in my mind.
“Absolutely not.”
I see the moment her metaphorical heels dig in. “Then I’m staying right here.”