Page 135 of Meant to Be

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” he said, out of breath. “The traffic was insane.”

“It’s fine,” I said, closing my magazine. I stood up and put on a soothing face.

“Man—” he said, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing…It’s just…you’re a sight for sore eyes. It’s been a long time.”

My stomach fluttered a little—because I loved seeing his face, too. But I played it off with a laugh and said, “I just saw you four nights ago.”

“Yeah. But I was drunk as shit four nights ago.”

“You were?” I said, suddenly wondering if Berry had been drinking, too. I’d replayed our conversation many times, feeling both guilty and angry about everything she’d said—andnotsaid.

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not ‘drunk as shit’now.”

Joe laughed, but the second the words were out of my mouth, I thought of my father and what he’d done, and felt a wave of nausea. Drunk driving—or flying—was nothing to joke about.

I pushed those thoughts away as two men escorted us out to the tarmac. The older, obsequious one was in a suit and tie; the younger guy, in an orange vest, carried my bag.

“What do you think?” Joe asked, beaming proudly as we approached his red and white plane. I knew, from hearing him talk about it, that it was a Piper Saratoga.

“It’s very pretty,” I said, wondering if that was the proper adjective for a plane. “Or should I say handsome?”

Joe chuckled and said, “Pretty. She’s definitely a girl.”

“How can you tell?” I asked, playing along.

“ ’Cause she’sthatbeautiful,” he said with an amorous sigh.

I smiled, but I could feel myself getting more nervous by the second. The plane looked smaller than I’d expected—and decidedly less sturdy—almost like a toy plane with low, skinny wings and a three-blade propeller in front.

As I watched the orange-vest man take Joe’s duffel from him, then climb a rinky-dink staircase and load both of our bags onto the plane, it crossed my mind to abort the mission. Fear of flying was the perfect excuse. And bonus: his mother would be on my side. I wondered if she even knew what he was up to today.

I played it out in my head, thinking that it would be embarrassing, but so what? I reminded myself that the game was over; I didn’t have to pretend to be the cool, adventurous, fearless girl anymore. If anything, it was better to give Joe something to talk to his next girlfriend about. I could hear him now, telling her how skittish I’d been about everything. Boats, swimming, skiing, airplanes. All the stuff he loved.

But I knew what would happen if I backed out. Joe would stay with me, and I’d be messing things up for him. We’d have torebook commercial flights and wouldn’t be able to get to Maryland until tomorrow morning, which meant he would miss his round of groomsmen’s golf. I had no choice but to suck it up.

Trying to make light conversation, I asked, “How many passengers doesshehold?”

“Six!” he said with the proudest grin. “But it’s just two today, babe!”

“So…no copilot?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. Joe had told me before that the plane was certified for a single pilot—and since he’d passed his final flight test, he always flew solo.

“No. I don’t need one. This is a cinch,” he said, shifting his gaze from the plane to me. “You’re not worried, are you?”

“No,” I lied.

The man in the suit, who had been pretending that he wasn’t listening to us, now turned around and said to me, “This is a very high-performance aircraft, miss. It can practically fly itself.”

I smiled, relaxing a little as Joe said to the man, “You forgot the part about me being a hell of a pilot!”

The man laughed and said, “Yes. The very best, sir.”

“Monty, if you call me sir one more time…” Joe said, raising his fist in jest.

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