Page 8 of Executive Decision

After our previous run-in, I wasn’t big on small talk. With his marketing plans, I could finish my job. I didn’t need to think about how it felt to kiss him or how I wanted to give into a base urge. While I wanted to shake it off, Cal’s slight stubble and warm smile didn’t help.

The flight attendant dimmed the cabin lights as Cal settled.

“Why did you get stuck here? I thought everyone went ahead.”

“Acquisitions hell,” I answered. “I agreed to stay back and wrap it up.”

“You poor thing,” Cal said, as if I was a child. “You drew the short straw.”

“Yes, boo-hoo me.”

Did he infantilize me even now? I was grown enough for him to kiss me, wasn’t I? His face twisted awkwardly. A pang of guilt shot through me.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “I just… I’m angry because Davey is already drunk off his ass and I feel like I got the thankless job.”

“You did. I get it,” Cal agreed, settling in and leaving me alone.

I worked through takeoff, only turning off my computer at cruising altitude. By then, Cal was asleep. I pitied him. He was a social chameleon, but he’d never be one of us. Long weekends skiing in Switzerland or a three-day-summits in Shanghai primed me to never make such a mistake. Why washemy father’s most trusted person? What made Calso remarkable?

In LA, we travelled together from the private terminal back to slumming it in commercial. Cal took my luggage without asking if I wanted him to, which annoyed me.

“So, you’re in the bridal party?” Cal hoisted the garment bag holding my bridesmaid’s dress over his broad shoulders.

“Yes,” I answered. “Sarah is my closest cousin. And you are, too?”

He flashed a boyish grin. “I’m Erik’s best man, so yes.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.It was always about the competition!

“I don’t need you to carry my dress,” I said.

“My mother would have my ass for not helping you, Daphne.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Would you like me to be rude and walk off, leaving you in the dust, Daphne?”

“No,” I answered. “I didn’t ask you to berude.”

“Well, you don’t have your boyfriend—what is his name? Chase, Casey, Carlton? Where is he?”

I pulled the handle on my suitcase so hard it clicked loud as a gunshot.

“Chandler Walker,” I answered, wanting to chuck Cal across the room. “And he’s not here because he’s not my boyfriend.”

“What? Since when?”

A week ago, when he dumped me for telling him I didn’t want to get married and pop out babies within the next two years.

I set my jaw. “Is it really fair to ask such a personal question, Cal?”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re right. It was… inappropriate.”

“Given your past, I’d mind myself,” I reminded him.

“Point taken. I swear I didn’t mean anything by it.” Cal sounded pained.

We walked in silence towards the gate. While I wanted to strangle him, Cal projected genuine remorse. It wasn’t his fault Chandler broke my heart or that he feared my retribution.

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