Page 25 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

My body clenches as we lift off and lurch forward. I grasp onto random straps and metal parts all around me hoping they’ll provide stability. Zane’s soothing voice coos in my headphones begrudgingly providing the security I’d been grasping for.

“Even if you hate this, we’ll be in Vegas in twenty minutes.”

“What? We have a weird history in Vegas. I thought we’re going to Hawaii?” I talk into mic. Last time I was in Vegas was our cease fire for Court & Ben’s wedding.

He laughs. “Just to catch a plane, no marriage license required.” I laugh a little.

The helicopter jumps. I squirm sideways and hide my face. Zane touches my cheek and lifts my chin. It’s an intimate gesture, and I ignore the slight zing at the familiarity. He points out my window. I’m looking at the sun reflecting off the red and orange rocks. I instantly see their magic. From the serenity of that moment, it seems only an instant until the artificial and extreme lights of the Vegas strip replace the very healing natural light and somehow I feel as if I fit in both of these places.

I step out from behind the helicopter to see our next transit mode. Escape from witch mountain spa requires quite a bit of money. I’m staring at a very pretty private plane. “How much money do you have?”

He stands at the base of the staircase holding my luggage.

“It’s not mine. I’ll explain.”

I turn his game on him. “Give me three reasons to get on this plane, and I’ll give you three reasons why I got on the helicopter.”

“Fine, but you can’t use, ‘I’ve never been in a helicopter.’” He thinks it over as I stand with my hands on my hips. He yells, “One, you’re impossible. Two, there are mimosas on board. Three, I need you.”

“Why do you need me?”

“No answers yet. Three reasons.” He taps his watch.

“One, I don’t want to shy away from saying yes to things anymore. Two, your eyes. Three, I want to know what happens next.”

Those fucking brown glistening eyes and mega lashes. I may detest his cavalier attitude, his lack of self-awareness and his disregard for almost anything except himself but those fucking eyes are what get me every time I see this selfish prick.

Batting his eyes at me forcefully, he answers. “My ego liked that. Now get your cute ass on the plane.” My ass is his kryptonite. Good to know.

He stands on the glamorous staircase with his hand outstretched. I take it and he tucks me into a seat, and the nice lady hands me champagne. He sits across from me. I do have a slight Buddy Holly fear of flying private. We take off, and I cross my fingers like I always do when planes take off and land.

He raises a glass. “To forming an alliance.” I toast and lower one eye at him.

He moves the way fairy tale characters move: opening doors, outstretched hands, guiding touches on your back. There was someone in his past who insisted on old school manners, much like my mother.

I put my hand out for a refill. And then I point to him with my empty glass and pull my yoga panted legs up into the big seat. “Why do you need me? The sooner you tell me, the better. Then we have a six-hour flight to Hawaii to make it up to me.” In a low rumble with my teeth clenched, I ask, “Do I have to sit at the wives and girlfriends table?”

“No, I swear, there’s no head table. “

I shift my legs into a crisscross applesauce. “How long have you been lying to loved ones?”

He shoots back, “How long have you been lying to yourself?”

I instantly hold my hands up like he’s arresting me. “Damn, big guns. Let’s go back to stupid banter about your hair.” He sits back and folds his arms across his chest.

“Sorry. As long as they think I’m settling down, they will stay out of my business. And keep certain accounts open to me.”

I clap my hands together. I know exactly who he is and what he’s trying to put delicately. “Trust fund baby.”

“You’re changing your mind.”

I smile a coy smile. “No. We’re not generational wealth, which I’m guessing you are. But it’s a language I’m fluent in. What if I didn’t get in the car?”

“I told them you might have to work.” I laugh at the absurdity of all of this. I down the rest of my Champy like a shot and look at him through squinted eyes.

“Can I still be Kat?”

“Yes, they know nothing about you, except we’ve known each other for a couple of years, but we stepped things up recently.”