Page 42 of Shared By the Pilots

“I don’t know. Both of them have potential.”

“Surely you’re leaning one way,” Dex said.

“I’m not,” I replied. “And don’t call me Shirley.”

We both chuckled at the dumbAirplane!reference.

“So they’re both tied?” he asked.

I nodded. “Right now they’re both extremely good candidates for a long-term relationship. But seriously, I’m trying not to get ahead of myself. You’ve said it yourself: I think about things too much, and get in my head and find ways to say no. For once, I’m trying to relax and enjoy the moment.”

“That’s good,” Dex said, “because you still technically have to say yes to one more gentleman suitor.”

“Ugh, seriously?” I asked. “You’re still holding me to that after the first two turned out great?”

He nodded emphatically. “A deal is a deal. Who knows? Maybe the third guy will finally be Mr. Right.”

“Dexter, sweetie,” I said, “the last thing on my mind is adding a third man to the mix.”

23

Veronica

Adam lived on the outskirts of Houston, in a single-family home that was on a corner lot, double the size of any of the other lots around it. With its white-picket fence and antique shutters, it looked like the idyllic place for someone to raise a family of five.

“I inherited it from my grandma,” he explained when I asked him about it one morning after spending the night. Adam was stirring eggs in a skillet while answering over his shoulder. “She skipped my parents in the will and gave it directly to me.”

“She must have really loved you,” I said while holding a mug of coffee.

Adam shrugged. “I was the only one who ever visited her. I never thought I would receive anything when she died. My cousins were pissed about it. They made a scene at the funeral when they found out.”

“Funerals bring out the worst in people.” I glanced at my watch. “I hate to rush you, but I have to leave in ten minutes.”

“Perfect timing, because these are almost done…” He moved the eggs to a plate and began garnishing them with spices and a few slices of bacon. It turned out that Adam was a tremendous cook, and had made dinner for me half a dozen times already. Each meal was better than the last. He finished with the presentation on his current work of art, then dramatically placed the plate in front of me.

“Dig in.”

Scrambled eggs were a simple dish, but something in the way he cooked them brought out flavors I had never imagined before. It was so good that I wolfed it down without pausing to compliment him.

“I’m happy about your Excelsior side hustle,” he said while sitting down with his own plate of food. “But I have to say I’m jealous.”

“I know, it’s not fair that they only hire women,” I said.

Adam shook his head. “No, I mean I’m jealous of how much of your time it’s occupying. You’re taking two extra flights a week. That’s two dayswecould be spending together.”

“It also means more money in my pocket when wedospend time together,” I replied. “Like that trip to Marfa we’re making next month.”

“I am excited to visit the world’s most remote Prada store,” Adam said.

I gestured with my fork. “It’s not an actual store. It’s just an art project.”

Adam ate a bite of his own food, chewed, then swallowed. “It’s kind of a big step.”

“A Prada art project?” I asked. “I don’t know. It’s just viral marketing for a big brand.”

“I meant us. Going away for a long weekend. You’re not worried we’re moving too fast, are we?”

I leaned forward and cupped his chin. “We had sex on an airplane over the middle of the North Atlantic. I think we can handle a trip to the desert.”

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