Page 27 of Gotta Have Mistletoe
I climb the stairs, my boots echoing on each metal step, Max beside me, and then we’re in the plane, all cream leather and warm air and newness, ready to leave Mistletoe Springs.
CHAPTER TEN
King Erik
Carjacking? Why is Max talking about a carjacking? Is that how Glen’s husband died?
Horror scrapes against me. Obviously, violence exists, but it’s always felt like something confined to the serious sections of the newspaper.
I follow Glen up the stairs, then follow him into the jet. He’s already sitting down, and he flashes me a smile that feels too bright, more brittle than real.
He doesn’t like flying.
He’s never left the country before.
I suddenly wish I hadn’t stormed my way into his life, bombarded his home with my heavy security detail, hadn’t insisted he escort me to Solberg, a place you can only reach with a fourteen-hour flight. We’ll have to stop in Canada to refuel.
Did Glen think he couldn’t say no? At the same time... I’m glad he said yes. I’m delighted I won’t have to return to Solberg and explain everything that happened and how I made a fool out of myself.
“Perhaps you want to sit next to Glen to explain protocols to him,” Anders suggests.
I glance at him, wide-eyed. I’ve never heard him speak about protocols without complaining.
“I can sit beside Max,” he says.
“Oh. Okay.”
That’s how I find myself next to Glen.
“We can switch,” I assure him.
“No. It’s okay.” He lowers his voice. “I don’t want Max to think there’s anything to be scared of. I mean, I know there’s not. It’s just that...”
I lower my voice. “Sometimes it’s difficult to show you’re brave all the time?”
He gives me a relieved nod.
“You can be scared. I won’t mind. I’ll be right here.”
I’m about to tell him that he can squeeze my hand, then I remember he’s not a little Anders waking up from a nightmare, and that would be wildly inappropriate.
Not that we haven’t already done wildly inappropriate things.
“You’re real nice, Your Majesty,” Glen says. “Kind.”
Joy bubbles within me.
People don’t call me kind. They call me handsome, stubborn, dutiful. But kind isn’t one of their compliments, but I like it.
The plane takes off, and I distract Glen through it, talking about what to expect in Solberg until the plane levels off and the flight attendant announces we can unbuckle our seatbelts. A moment later she adds that we should have our seatbelts on whenever we’re sitting down in case of turbulence, which doesn’t exactly calm Glen. Not permanently. Not how I like.
When it gets later, and the sky darkens outside, and we can’t see the ocean, can’t see the ice slabs that make up Greenland, can’t see anything, I switch seats with Max. Max curls against Glen, snuggling against his father’s belly, and I put on my eye mask and pretend that when I close my eyes, I’m not still seeing Glen.
Finally, the plane swoops downward, and the flight attendant announces we are landing. The windows lighten automatically, revealing the snowy, pine-covered mountains and frozen lakes with which I’m familiar.
We’re home.
My nerves bounce. I hope Glen and Max like Solberg, and heavens, I hope my people like them.
