Page 122 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

He looks so lost. His hair’s matted and clothes out of sorts. He takes my left hand and feels my finger where the ring should be. He continues to look forward and asks casually, “Where is it?”

I try to make him smile. “Where’s what?” His eyes light up. I’m happy to see the luminosity return. It’s the glow I dream of when I let myself believe we’re a real couple.

“It’s become accustomed to your finger. There’s a groove. You’ll need to leave it on in Boston.”

“Camera bag.”

He reminds me of the business end of our relationship, and I hold onto that one part of my reluctant heart.

He kisses me a little too hard for public. It’s like our last bit of us and our confusion as we hurl toward a very murky family reunion. He settles into his seat checking his phone again for the millionth time. He clutches my hand and flashes me his charming smile, the one that makes my knees weak. It’s under all his scruff and worries, but it’s there.

Once we arrive, we will need to slip into our pre-designated roles. There’ll be little downtime and we’ll have to stay in character most of the time. I’m out of practice. My act was slipping away more each day. My mom isn’t going to like it. She’ll attribute it to hormones or circumstance, but the truth is, I’m done being that person.

I reach into my camera bag side pocket where I keep my treasures pulling out the last of my gummi butterflies and place them on the armrest between us.

“Thank god,” he says as he bites the wings off of one and I do the same.

“Jack’s too bullheaded to let some clogs or collapsed arteries slow him down. You know that.”

He shakes his head. “I never considered this situation when I was plotting and scheming. I have a break coming, and I was going to do something, well, different than drinking and fucking.”

“Well, I don’t like that plan at all. It does not have my stamp of approval.” I snap at the nice flight attendant. “Hi. I’m going to need a couple of Jack and Cokes.” She hurries off. “We drink now, fuck later. But we’re not stopping either of those activities in the near future. They’re what’s going to sustain us. Drinking, fucking, coffee, Diet Coke, and denial.”

“It’s a mess.”

“But it’s our mess.”

Chapter 62

Time Fucks You Up

ZANE

Boston

The cab from the airport feels longer than the flight. Kat is curled into me, my arm around her, my right leg shaking violently with anxiety I can’t seem to stop. We spoke to Birdie moments ago. Everything’s stable and went really well.

Jack’s been out of surgery for close to ten hours. The anticipation of what could happen in the next ten minutes of a cab ride is almost too much. Kat reaches into her camera bag and hands me the ring and without being asked, I slide it back onto her finger. I hold onto her hand for the rest of the journey, twisting the ring with nervous energy I don’t know what else to do. She grabs our roller bags. I’m already bolting inside before the door closes.

A man the size of a refrigerator between me and my family has stalled me at the CCU desk.

“I’m sorry. We can’t allow you to go up there now, sir. The CCU is full. You’re welcome to come back in the morning. Visiting hours begin again at 7:30 a.m.”

“Visiting hours don’t end for like three hours. I know this. My family’s up there.”

“Sir, Mr. Jackson has too many visitors as it is. I can’t allow you to go up there. Neither of you.”

I feel my shoulders drop. I’m a man who gets what he wants but exhaustion has taken everything I had and I don’t have a next move. Then Kat steps forward.

“Look, Attila, you’re going to step aside. This man just flew in from Egypt, not the T from Hyde Park or Quincy, fucking Cairo, Egypt. Do you know how far that is?”

He steps back half a step. Her haphazard ponytail is a disaster. Her eyes look bloodshot and possessed. I’d be scared too.

“Yes, ma’am, I do know⁠—”

She cuts him off and a screaming rant erupts from a woman who blows me away with her depth. With her blind loyal rage for anyone she cares about. So grateful I’m on the beneficial end of it.

“Great. So great. We’re exhausted, starving and worried. I’m not in a rational state of mind when I’m this hungry and scared. I need sugar, and pretty damn soon. This man needs to see his father, who suffered and survived a massive coronary and double bypass surgery. I can’t be held accountable for what’s going to happen if you don’t shuffle your nasty-ass Crocs away from this door. And fetch us some sandwiches, any sort of gummy candy and bring them to the CCU. And no fucking mayonnaise.”