Page 31 of Always

“Well, neither can I,” Marco admitted, “but I have a few friends from school who can.”

She supposed he wanted to take her up in one of those small prop planes or helicopters that do tours of the city, but when she saw the size of the plane on the runway, she realized he meant to take an actual trip.

“Where are we going?” she said. “I can’t, Marco! I have a meeting this afternoon to get our non-profit approved. It’s important—I can’t miss it!”

“I already talked to Gwen,” Marco assured her. “She has everything she needs, she can handle it.”

Anika looked in wonder at the long, sleek silver and white body of the plane. Its nose and wings were so thin, it looked more like a spaceship than an airplane. A ramp led invitingly from the pavement up to the unseen interior.

It certainly was tempting. The Red Line was so important to her; it was her baby. But sometimes it felt like an anvil around her neck. It had cost her so many things. The idea of forgetting about it, just for a day or two, the idea of being completely free and a little bit selfish…it was intoxicating.

Down on the tarmac, the trim, handsome pilot chatted with a chicly-dressed flight attendant. They waved to Anika as Marco parked the car.

“I don’t have a toothbrush or any clothes!” Anika protested weakly.

“I have everything you need,” Marco said. “I’ve been planning all week. Trust me, Anika.”

He turned off the engine and came round to open her door, holding out his hand to help her out.

“Alright,” Anika agreed, stepping out, “I trust you.”

The plane’s engine was already running as they approached, a smooth and steady thrumming sound that seemed to vibrate through her whole body. She could feel goosebumps rising on her arms, from the sound, from the cool morning breeze, and from the anticipation.

“Welcome!” the pilot said, shaking their hands.

“Right this way,” the flight attendant said, ushering them toward the ramp.

They ascended the staircase into the softly humming body of the plane. It was as sleek inside as out, all butter-soft leather, polished chrome, and gleaming woodwork. It smelled incredible, like a new car multiplied by a thousand, like it might have been made that morning.

Anika sunk down into a chair far more comfortable than her actual bed at home. It swiveled under her, able to face in any direction.

The pretty flight attendant appeared at her side, offering to take her jacket and bring her a drink or a snack. A bottle of chilled champagne already sat on the table between her and Marco. Marco wasted no time in popping the cork to pour them each a glass.

There were no safety announcements or delays. Once the attendant was sure they had everything they needed, she and the captain retired to the front of the plane to give Marco and Anika their privacy.

In minutes, the engines had ramped up to full throttle and the plane swooped up into the sky. Anika had flown private once or twice before, but never in a jet as luxurious as this. It moved through the air like a bird, light and swift.

The golden morning light came pouring in the windows, which were much larger than the little portals on the side of a normal plane. Sitting across from her, Marco looked handsomer than ever, his eyes brilliantly green, taking in every inch of her.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Anika asked.

“Just Aruba,” Marco said. “I would have loved to have taken you somewhere more exotic—Thailand maybe, or Paris. But I know you don’t want to miss too much work.”

“Just Aruba!” Anika laughed. “That’s exotic enough for me. I haven’t been on vacation in ages. And definitely not to anywhere tropical.”

“It’s a favorite of mine,” Marco said. “My mother had her third wedding there. Which you wouldn’t think would endear me to the place, but while I was avoiding her husband-of-the-month, I found some pretty amazing spots. I’ll show you.”

Anika sank back into the plush seat, looking out the window in anticipation. It was too dark to see much below them, but she could tell they were already out over the ocean.

“I don’t suppose you brought me a swimsuit?” she asked.

“Of course,” Marco said confidently, sipping his champagne.

“What size?” Anika laughed.

“The right size!” Marco assured her—and then admitted, “Hannah helped me.”

Anika was afraid to see what Hannah considered appropriate swimwear, but she wouldn’t say anything to make Marco feel bad about it, no matter what it might look like. She steeled herself for pink spangles.

---