2 New Year’s Day
LAX Pacific Ocean New South Wales, Australia
Twenty-four hours—and one fitful night in my childhood bed and not the honeymoon suite at the Four Seasons—later, I’m piling out of Lila’s Fiat at LAX. I lug my enormous pink hard-sided suitcase out of the back and wheel it up onto the sidewalk. It’s another reminder of Winston who made sure we had fresh honeymoon luggage, even picking this one out in my favorite color. I bite back tears as Mom and Lila rattle off instructions.
“Eat the caviar.” I hate caviar.
“Drink all the champagne.” I like prosecco better.
“Keep a hat on so the sun doesn’t fade your highlights.” I spent more than my mortgage payment on this balayage. No chance I’m going to ruin it.
“And take advantage of everything you can in that Australian paradise.” By myself, with the constant reminder I’ve been left at the altar.
Lila wraps me up in the biggest hug. “Getting away is the best thing for you right now.”
Mom eases me toward the door of the terminal. “You’ve got this, girl.”
I board my overnight flight and I’m thankful for the privacy of my first-class seat. Do they call these things a pod? A suite? At least Winston was a spare-no-expense kind of guy. With my sunglasses hiding my red-rimmed eyes, I order a drink from the flight attendant. I sit back—my feet barely touch the floor—and take my first sip when the divider between my suite and the next one slides open. Shit. Why is that seat occupied? It better not be Winston.
“Hello, love. I hate to drink alone.”
I glance over and see the anti-Winston. Shaggy, sandy blond hair. Winston had his brown hair perfectly cut above his ears. Tan face. Winston believed in 50 SPF. And a playful smile with the most dazzling white teeth I’ve ever seen. Winston had two dimples he saved for me and special occasions—like million dollar mergers. And, of course, Winston would never speak in a flirty voice to a stranger.
He lifts his glass toward me. “Cheers, mate!”
I give a small nod and face forward taking another sip, trying to hold back the tears. I’m not sure it’s possible for me to give off a bigger please-don’t-talk-to-me vibe. Maybe I’ll ping the flight attendant and ask how to lock the slider between us.
“First time heading to Australia?” His accent is charming, but I have no desire to be friendly for the next fourteen hours.
“Yes.” I use my sunglasses to hold my still curled wedding hair off my face and start digging in my handbag for my AirPods. Maybe he’ll get a clue. The last thing I want to do is talk to my seatmate, no matter how good looking he is.
“You’re gonna love it. The air is fresh and the surf is gnarly. We have the best beaches in the world. Or maybe you’re more of a city girl? Shopping? Or oh…headed over for work? I’m Bruce, by the way. And you’re…?”
“Francine.” Ignoring the rest of his questions.
“Gorgeous name for a gorgeous lady.” I could swear his teeth sparkle like a Colgate commercial. “What’s your flight cocktail of choice?”
“Anything with alcohol.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart. What are you most looking forward to in our hemisphere?”
What is he? Some chatty outback tour guide?
“Kangaroos. Koalas. Quiet.” Please take the hint. My sadness is doing a 180 and heading straight toward annoyance.
“Hmm… we have all the places for that.” His gorgeous gold-flecked brown eyes look at me through long lashes. They’re the kind I would’ve gotten lost in at a different point in my life. But now I want to get lost in my book. Try #2 for him to get a hint.
I kick off my shoes and whip my blonde hair into a messy bun with a silk scrunchie. Maybe I’ll get a few hours of sleep. Wiggling under the airline blanket, I push the million buttons and my seat slides into a bed. If only I had my lavender pillow and trusty white noise machine that never fail to lull me to sleep after my night shift in the ER. For now, this tiny airplane pillow will have to suffice. I slip the sleep mask over my eyes. Ahh…
“So, Frannie…” His broad shoulders are leaning over in my direction. I lift my eye mask, giving him a wary side-eye. Not only is he continuing to talk, he’s shortened my name like we’ve been friends since grade school.
“Sweet dreams…they’re always better at 11,000 meters.”
My heart thaws a bit, or maybe it’s beating a little faster, looking into his handsome face. At least he’s kind. Right now, I could use an extra serving of well wishes.
The cabin lights brighten, mimicking the soft glow of sunrise. The flight attendants deliver fresh hot towels followed by breakfast on china. Warm scones, fresh berries with Greek yogurt and a little something sweet. I could get used to first class. My sweet tooth can’t resist having dessert first. I rip open the package to find an adorable dark chocolate koala bear sprinkled with sea salt. I snap a picture—Mom and Lila will be happy to know I’m finding some joy—and take a bite.
“Good god,” I moan. It’s bitter, sweet, so creamy, and dusted with the perfect amount of sea salt. The slider between our seats opens just wide enough to see those gold-flecked brown eyes.
“Sounds like you had some sweet dreams,” he says.
My cheeks blush. “No! No! It’s the chocolate. It’s divine.”
“Australian airline brekky never disappoints.”
The slider opens a little further and Bruce hands me his chocolate.
“Thank you.” I waste no time and devour it right away hoping there’s not leftover chocolate dribbling down my chin.
“Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for arrival,” says the deep voice on the intercom.
“In preparation for landing, please bring your seat to an upright position…” continues a flight attendant.
In no time, we’re on the ground. Bruce stands up and stretches as he gets his luggage out of the overhead bin. As his shirt pulls up, I glimpse his taut abs. Sweet and fit . He looks down and catches my gaze. I dive my head into my carry-on pretending to search for anything in hopes I’ll get swallowed up by my bag before I have to look up again.
He takes his bag and nods, “Cheers Frannie, with the green eyes. Nice to sleep with you.” He winks and heads off down the aisle.
Nice to sleep with you? Who says that to a random person they sat next to on a plane? I can’t ignore the fact that my face is flushed and my mind wanders to how deeply tan his chest might look next to crisp white sheets. I shake my head, gather the last of my things, and step off the plane. Maybe I’m delirious from the long flight.