Page 58 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“I don’t think it’s just that. I get the feeling that there’s a rivalry between the two of you that has nothing to do with me and Ashley.”

Michael is not a smart man, but he is figuring things out. And that’s another thing that I will not tolerate.

“I need you to focus. I need you to ignore the tactics that this therapist learned in college. If I had to guess, psychology wasn’t even her first pick. Either that, or she’s got problems of her own, but instead of facing them, she untangles other people’s issues for money. Michael, I need you to focus on what we are trying to do here. This woman was with you for 16 years, has a job that wouldn’t even be considered lucrative on Etsy, but thinks that she can take more than half of everything you’ve worked for. More than half of everything that belonged to you in the first place.”

I will admit that the last sentence is not necessarily true. Saying those words actually goes slightly against my normal morals. But for whatever reason, this case has struck a nerve. There’s something about this couple, something about the fact that he is giving in, something I see is weakness and not intelligence, that makes me wanna win it all the more. Whether it’s for me or him, I don’t know. But I don’t have time to figure that out. As we approach the airport, I need to focus on the wedding. I need to focus on walking through those doors and dealing with a woman who has the capacity to unravel me simply by wearing a low-cut dress. I need to focus on making it through this flight, even if it is a private one. If anything, the fact that it’s a private jet with only me and her and one hired tourist and two pilots is actually going to make it even more difficult to remember the rules that we just recently reinforced.

* * *

“This is nice,” Quinn says if she buckles herself in. “I’ve never been on a private jet before.”

“Most people haven’t,” I tell her, and while I’m not usually one for small talk, I’m still reeling from the conversation I just had in the car. Honestly, I would prefer we didn’t speak at all, but I doubt I can be so lucky, especially with Quinn.

“How long has your pilot been a pilot?” She asks, and I am about to snap at her. If she’s going to ask pointless questions, I’d prefer we flew in silence. But as I glance over at her, I noticed that her light blue eyes are wide and quiet with anxiety. Her hands are clasped together in her lap. She’s afraid to fly.

“Orlando has been my pilot for over 10 years. He is very skilled. The flights are much smoother than continental ones. You’ll see.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Quinn’s soft hands, growing even more tense. “I’ve never flown before.”

“You’ve never flown before?” I ask her. “That surprises me.”

“Does it?” she asks, finally turning her attention to me instead of staring blankly at the window.

“Sure, you said that your dad is a lawyer. The last time I checked, lawyers made pretty good money. Money that could be used to buy vacations.”

“We used to go on vacation,” she says almost robotically. “Before my mom died.”

Fuck. I forgot about that. not that I could’ve known it would tie into this conversation, but it still makes me feel like shit. Especially since the anxiety over flying has her usual spicy tongue down to a kid-level mild.

“After that,” she goes on, “my dad kind of just threw himself into work. One of those things where anything that reminded him ofher hurt too much. Of course, eventually he realized how much I reminded him of her, and he couldn’t avoid me. But by that time, I was already doing my own things, and he was becoming more successful in his career and had less free time on his hands. So, now here I am in my mid-20s, and I’ve never been on a plane.”

Speaking of planes. The captain is now taxiing across the runway, and Quinn lets out an audible gasp. Her hands clench and she grabs the handles of the chair. Instinctively, I placed one of mine on top of one of hers and keep the conversation going.

“So these trips you took with your mom…you didn’t fly for those?”

Quinn shakes her head. “My mom likes road trips. She preferred being able to see the country, not just fly over it. We went all the way to the Grand Canyon one time.”

My eyes widen at that. “You drove from New York to the Grand Canyon? In a car? With your parents?”

Quinn nods with a small smile, and I’m happy to see it. Of course it fades once we pick up speed. I tug her hand off the handle and clasp it in mine. Our fingers intertwine, and she nearly cuts off the circulation as the wheels of the plane lift off the ground.

“Fuck,” she lets out half scream and half squeak. Her eyes are still clamped shut. Then, to my surprise, she says. “I never minded being in the car with my parents. They let me have the entire backseat, snacks, and books.”

“Let me guess. Harlequins?” I said, and she smiles.

“Nicholas Sparks,” she says. “I’m classy like that.”

It earns a laugh from me. And I find that both of us are relaxing more. She’s no longer in danger of cutting off the blood supply to my fingers. And my mood is actually softening a little.

Then suddenly her eyes pop open. “That reminds me! How long is this flight?”

“A couple hours; two tops. Just depends on the route we take based on the flight of other planes. Why do you ask?”

“That is just enough time,” Quinn says, reaching for her backpack and pulling out a tablet.

“Are you actually going to work on the plane?” I ask. Not that I didn’t plan to do the same.

“Nope,” Quinn says with a smile, and the next thing I know she’s logging into her Netflix account. I give her a curious look. “You’ll see.”