Page 11 of At First Smile
“I don’t know, but I’ve got you.” I run my fingers into her hair, massaging soothing circles on her scalp and praying this isn’t the end.
I’d just found her, after all.
CHAPTER THREE
Option B
Pen
We’re alive.A little dazed, I take Rowan’s hand and follow him off the plane. My weekender bag and his duffle hang over his broad shoulders. I’d not even realized he’d gotten both our bags until we attempted to squeeze into the aisle together. Stepping into the intense midday sunshine, I wince. The stinging rays jolt me into the reality of the last thirty minutes.
The violent turbulence turned into a rapid descent and an emergency landing somewhere in Michigan. I have the vague recollection of the pilot’s calm voice explaining that there were mechanical issues necessitating an emergency landing. The entire time, Rowan kept his protective arms wrapped tightly around me.
And he continues to hold on to me, which I don’t mind in the least. Descending the narrow ramp to the tarmac our fingers remain linked. It should be weird. We don’t really know eachother. Still, there’s something about my hand in his that seems right.
“Here,” Rowan says, plopping his hat onto my head. “It’s bright out here.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got another one in my duffle. I’ll grab it when we get inside.” His head tilts to the small terminal building at the end of the orange-coned barrier path.
“Thank you.” Some rather insistent butterflies make their presence known in my stomach.
Rowan’s kind gesture dissolves away the fear still biting my frayed nerves. I don’t want to be melodramatic about this, but we could have died. We didn’t but…. Instead, I sink into the knowledge that I’m alive, holding Rowan’s hand while we zigzag across the tarmac.
Rowan.Was he about to kiss me before the plane did whatever the hell that was? The sensation of his fingers coasting over my cheeks lingers. His fresh woodsy scent enveloping me as he leaned in. It’s been a while since I’ve been kissed, but I could still read the signs.
Entering the building, a frazzled flight attendant instructs passengers to take a seat in the boarding area so they can assist us with getting home. Rowan guides us to a pair of empty plastic chairs and tosses our bags onto them.
Turning, he grips my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. You?” I rasp, blinking.
The surrealness of today is dizzying. Any minute someone’s going to pinch me and wake me up from this dream. I’ll find myself in my original last row coach seat, having never met Rowan, and my flight safely en route to Los Angeles. TheSliding Doorseffect with its alternative world in which I almost died in a plane crash but never met this man whose light eyes drink me in is not appealing.
“Are you sure?” His hands cup my face, seeming to search for something.
“Yes.” Dropping a folded Cane Austen between us, I mirror his movements, requiring me to rise to my tiptoes. “God, you’re tall. Why are you so tall?”
He huffs a quick laugh.
“Are you okay?”
Mouth slanted into a lopsided grin, he tucks me into a tight hug. “I am now.”
“It was scary, but we’re safe.” Eyes closed, I listen to his heart’s gentle thud. “Thank you for…”
I’m not sure what to say.Thank you for holding me, reassuring me, and making me feel safe and even needed. Somehow, the way Rowan held me on the plane spoke to his need of me. He both comforted and was comforted in one small action. For so much of my life, people want to protect me. They think my disability equates to a belief that I need to be taken care of. There’s protectiveness in Rowan’s arms but also the plea for me in the thump of his heart. His arms give as much as they take.
“…Just thank you,” I murmur.
“Thank you.” His chin rests atop my head.
“I think I want to walk home, though.”
“Ditto.”
No way was I walking home in my strappy wedge sandals. And double that sentiment on hopping on another flight. The only destination available from this airport was Chicago. If I thought one flight was unappealing, taking two was a nonstarter. Some passengers opted to be bused ninety minutes to Detroit to catch flights later tonight. With very little desire to climb into another plane today, Rowan and I take option B. We’ll spend today here and rent a car to drive to Detroit tomorrow for a flight home. Option B isn’t something the airline offers, but Rowangrunted that he and his “wife” would not be getting on a plane tonight.
