61. Cody
Cody
I don’t want to admit that I’m disgustingly clammy when I shuttle down the family’s private runway in our plane. Nape, forehead, hands—all sticky with cold sweat.
Yet each step is instinctive to me. The equipment might be different than a fighter jet’s, but my fingers know where to settle, my eyes flickering over the dash, hands working to get me airborne, my whole body at ease in this setting.
It’s just my brain that isn’t.
Cracking my neck, I refuse to think about that day when my love for flying turned to dread.
But because brains are whacked, as I pull off the runway, the air currents rejecting the plane’s intrusion into its medium, I think about Ricky.
Paulie.
I fixate on loss and death and explosions, and all the while, I handle the plane like the pilot I am because this is my version of riding a bike.
When I level out, the comfort factor sets in. It’s a tangible thing. Restful, almost. I can turn off even as I’m hyperfocused. It lets me think about my breathing. Lets me recognize how big of a deal this moment is.
Mike will be fucking proud.
Funny thing is, no one else apart from him and Tee knows this is my first time flying in… Jesus. Too long.
The sick part is, by the time I land in Toronto, I’m sad about disembarking the plane. But Callan’s finally emailed me with the hotel where Zee and Tee are staying and I’m ready for anything my woman can throw at me.
She might have told her mom that we’re dating, but something’s sure as fuck going on with her and I need to fix it.
It is, I realize, my purpose. Not to fly, not to police my small town, not to be a Korhonen—I’m the Tee-whisperer, and I’m ready for it to be a full-time position.
When I make it to the hotel, the receptionist spots me and steps out from behind the desk, all smiles as he greets: “Your family returned an hour ago, sir. They’re expecting room service.”
“Thank you for the update.”
Slipping him a tip when he passes me a key card, I nod at him in thanks and stride over to the elevator.
In my hand, I fiddle with the pouch Mum gave me yesterday.
When I reach the front door, I stare at it for a few minutes as I organize the things I need to say to her.
I know I need to tell her that she never has to change for me—that her dad’s wrong, that she can be whatever she chooses to be.
I just want her to be mine.
I want Pigeon Creek to know she’s mine.
I want the fucking world to know she’s mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The words ricochet around my head, urging me into action.
Words aren’t what she needs.
Action is.
I drop to one knee and empty the pouch Mum gave to me onto the palm of my hand before I hit the buzzer.
“Coming!” she yells. “Two minutes! One minute. No, three minutes!”
I grin, hearing her muttering about being interrupted, and then, as she tugs open the door, I see she’s wearing a face mask. It limits her field of vision, so she stares blankly at the empty space in front of her then gasps at the sight of me.
“Cody! Did you fall over? What are you doing here?” Before I can answer, she glowers at me and presses her hands to her hips. “Where the fuck have you been? Why are you sending me horrible texts that you never answer? You didn’t come to bed last night, and you disappeared from the?—”
“Tee,” I cut in over the top of her voice. “I was a jerk.”
“Damn straight you were. If you think we’re over—” Before she can finish that crazy sentence, before I can drag her over my knee to spank her for even thinking that was where this was going, she sees my hand.
Her eyes widen as Zee yells, “Tee, is that our pizza? I neeeeeeed it. I can’t get this fucking glue out of my hair—what did you put in it earlier?”
Both of us ignore her, and I take advantage of her goldfish impression to murmur, “You are crazy. You’re my Calamity Jane. You make me smile. You fill my heart with joy. You see the world differently than me. You lift me up and make me feel lighter. As if the shit I’ve done doesn’t have to pollute every breath I take because you accept me.
“You never have to marry me. You don’t have to work. You can be the next Hans Zimmer if that’s what you need. You can do anything you want to do, be anything you want to be, but please, I beg of you, wear this so that everyone knows you’re mine. So the world knows you belong to me and that I belong to you.”
She squints at me in the silence that falls between us. And just as my stomach churns at the prospect of her saying no, she purses her lips. “You’ll wear an engagement ring?”
“If you want me to.”
She taps her bottom lip with her pointer finger. “Titanium. Black. With a single black diamond in the middle of the plain band.”
“If you insist.”
“Lines on it. Like a staff. With notes I pick.”
“Anything, baby girl.”
Her shoulders sag, then they straighten as she stares at the ring propped between my fingertips. “Oh, it’s so lovely.”
What it is, is a battered platinum band with a tiny diamond in the center.
“I know it’s not the bigg— but it’s my nanna’s.” My throat works. “On my mum’s side. I-I really loved her.”
She snatches the ring from my fingers, not answering as she sighs in delight, thumb stroking over the thin band.
“Tee? Where are you?!” Zee shrieks. “This freakin’ glue is making me claustrophobic!”
“Susanne Felicia McAllister Korhonen, butt out!” Tee yells back. “I’m being proposed to over here!”
The proposal is as chaotic as I knew it’d be, and if she’d just put the damn ring on, it’d be perfect.
“What?” Zee hollers, but I can hear thudding as she runs into the main room of the suite. Gasping when she sees me, she scuttles over to the door and demands of her best friend, “Well?! Did you say yes? Of course you said yes. You said yes, right?!”
Ignoring my unusually discombobulated sister-in-law, Tee peeps a grin at me. “You’d trust me to wear this?”
Unsure if she hates it, I offer, “I can get you a different one?—”
“Shut up. Stop ruining it. You trust me with your nanna’s ring?”
Ah, fuck.
If my heart wasn’t already hers, it is now.
She gets it.
“Of course. I trust you with me, Tee.” I plant a hand against my chest. “Why wouldn’t I trust you with my nanna’s ring?”
She licks her lips. “You know I love you.”
“Yes. I do. You know I love you too. And I know that we don’t have to get married to be together, but?—”
“I want people to know,” she blurts out.
Relief has me sagging. “You do?”
“I told Mom today.” Her chin juts out. “I want people to know you’re mine too. And I want them to know that I’m not with you for your money. More importantly, I want you to know that.”
“I never thought you were?—”
“Your money’s nice,” she assures me, tone kind, “but I’d prefer to be my own rich husband.”
I hide a smile. “We’ll work on that.”
“I want to make music.”
“I want that too.”
“I want you to take more pictures.”
“Can do.”
“I want you to fly me somewhere.”
I swallow. “Sure.”
“But I also maybe want a kid. Not yet though.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Three? Sold.”
“When?”
“When you’re ready.”
“Really?” she cries.
“Really.”
When her throat bobs again, I grin at her. “Is that a yes?”
There are tears in her eyes. Good tears. “It’s a hell yes.”
Zee surprises us both by clapping her hands. “This is my moment to bow out.” Though Tee’s gaze remains locked on mine, Zee kisses her cheek. “I’ll see you later, future sister-in-law.”
Tee doesn’t even look at her when Zee passes by to yank off her face mask. That’s when I know I’ve bamboozled my future wife.
The second Zee trots out of the suite, only her phone and the discarded face mask on her person and dressed in PJs and fluffy slippers, I surge to my feet and surround Tee with me—sliding my arms around her waist and dragging her into me as I shuffle us deeper into the suite.
I push my forehead onto hers. “What was yesterday about? I thought you were breaking up with me or something!”
“So says you, Mr. ‘We need to talk.’”
Her lips find mine and suddenly, nothing else matters but this link. This connection. Us.