Chapter 23
Chapter
When I show up at the airport for the first time since the airplane wash, I’m buzzing with a nervous energy. The past few days I’ve turned George’s words over and over in my head, finally landing at a possibility I’m worried to hope for.
George Bunsen never intensely disliked me.
In fact, he might like me. I could be completely tolerable to the man.
If what he said was true, the guy hasn’t been avoiding me because the BnB overlords instructed it, but because he didn’t want to be an added element of tension in an already strained relationship with my father.
A nonexistent relationship.
Maybe Karl Newton wasn’t as blatant about his dismissal of me as I always thought. I guess that makes sense, because publicly shunning me would also mean acknowledging my existence.
All this has danced around my head while serving pounds of meat at Beefies and waiting tables at the diner and trying to observe my mom’s health without her realizing I’m worrying and unclogging the too-small pipes in our kitchen sink and cramming in ground school during the late-night hours.
Today, seeing George again, maybe the whirlwind in my mind will calm. Maybe I just need to go up in the air, with my arm pressed against his, and I’ll find a sense of peace and not be overwhelmed by these revelations.
Unfortunately, my stress level spikes rather than dips when I reach the tie-down spot for George’s Cessna 172 only to find the space empty.
Did I mix up the time we were meeting?
I fish my phone out of my bag and see that I have a text.
George: Taking the plane up before our flight. I’ll be back by 1:30.
I glance at the time to see it’s 1:25. And before I even put my phone away, I hear the approach of a plane engine. Shielding my eyes, I spy a familiar aircraft making the approach.
Of course, the landing is as smooth as a hot knife through butter.
“Show-off,” I mutter, fighting a grin.
But my eager cheer takes a nosedive when George taxis off the runway and aims the plane toward where I’m waiting, giving me a clear view into the cockpit.
He’s not alone.
Beside him is a gorgeous woman with dark hair, tanned skin, and a straight set of pearly white teeth I can see as she laughs.
George is also smiling. Also laughing. Having a grand time with…
Who is she?
My best guess is Meghan Markle because hot damn, they look similar. But that doesn’t make any sense. George doesn’t know British royalty…right?
Actually, who knows? BBN does try to cater to the one percent. They’ve probably had royalty in their vehicles at some point.
Does he have a girlfriend?
Or could this be his ex-wife, Elle? Shawn did say they were still friends…
I make sure to stand clear of the tie-down he’s heading to and use the time before their arrival to compose myself.
So what if George is flying with beautiful women? Doesn’t matter to me. The man can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants.
I’m fine.
I’m perfectly, completely fine.
The propeller slows to a stop, the world suddenly quiet without the roar, and a moment later George and his companion disembark. His eyes find mine, and he strolls straight to me.
“Have you been waiting long?”
I shrug. “Five minutes maybe.”
“Beth!” The tall, gorgeous stranger approaches, grinning wide, face eager. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
What is that supposed to mean? What’s so unbelievable about me? I find myself very believable, sometimes painfully so.
“Have you met Tasha?” George asks. “Tasha Baylor.”
Oh. Oh.
As in one of the Bs in BBN. That Baylor.
Now that I have her name, I realize I do recognize her from some of Shawn’s pictures on social media and in his apartment. They’re friends.
But are she and George…more?
“You’re even more gorgeous than he said,” Tasha tells me, her smile pure, genuine eagerness.
He, who? He, Shawn?
I guess, thanks, bro.
“Tasha.” George speaks her name with a warning lilt, but she waves him off as if he is inconsequential.
I could like this woman. That is, if she disregards any shit Karl might have said about my mom or me.
“Good to meet you,” I offer in my pleasant waitress voice. “Did you have a nice flight?”
“It was lovely. This one has things under control.” She pats George’s arm in a gesture that seems more friendly than romantic. “But I guess you know that better than most.” This time Tasha’s face sobers, and I realize she must be thinking about our emergency landing.
Funny, it’s been a little while since that incident has arisen in my mind. George was right. Getting back up in the air helped.
“He’s a great teacher.”
Tasha’s smile returns. “I don’t doubt it. I’m going to convince my fiancée to come up with me next time.”
Let’s not examine how that comment sends relief washing through me.
“I’m sure she’d like to meet you, too, Beth,” Tasha continues. “Maybe the four of us can go up sometime. I don’t mind being crammed in that tiny back seat if it’s my future wife I’m smashed up against.”
“I’d like that,” I tell her truthfully. Tasha seems like a fun person who doesn’t care about my parentage.
Maybe Karl Newton was able to influence his corporation to push my mother out, but it doesn’t look like he’s had much success labeling me a pariah to be avoided at all costs with the next generation.
“We’ve got to get going, Tasha.” George gives his friend a hard stare that doesn’t cow her in the slightest.
“Fine, you big grump. Keep her to yourself. It was really good to meet you, Beth.” Tasha holds my eyes with an unwavering intensity I’m sure makes her a terrifying badass during corporate meetings.
“But I feel like I know you already. Shawn is always gushing about you.” About me?
What would he even have to say? Maybe how I can pour coffee into a mug without looking.
That trick always impresses him. “Plus, this one gets downright chatty when the topic of you comes up.” She slaps George on the shoulder.
He closes his eyes and lets out a weary sigh.
George? Chatty? That’s definitely false. Still, I enjoy Tasha’s teasing.
“I’m glad I met you, too.” Especially because now I know there’s one less person in the world disgusted by my existence.
“We need to get together sometime,” Tasha presses.
“All five of us. No, six. Bring your friend Darla. George tells me Shawn turns into an absolute fool around her, and I need that entertainment in my life.” She leans in and plants a firm kiss on my cheek, then repeats the gesture with George before strolling off with a wave.
George and I stand next to each other, both of us quiet. I’m not sure why he is, but I’m processing the idea of Shawn, Darla, Tasha, her fiancée, George, and me all sitting down together. Maybe at a bar, sipping some drinks, making jokes. None of us working or having to hurry off to get to a job.
The idea seems so pleasant. So normal.
But it’s never going to happen.
“I figured you two would get along,” George murmurs, breaking my contemplation.
I glance up at him. “She’s cool.”
He nods. “So are her parents. The Baylors aren’t as intense as our dads.”
“Intense,” I scoff. “That’s one way to put it.”
“How would you put it then?”
“Judgmental assholes.”
George snorts and smooths a smile away with his fingers. Then he frowns and turns his full attention on me, but his shades hide his eyes.
“Do you accept any help from your dad?”
I bristle and bite back the response pushing to get past my teeth.
He’d have to offer help for me to accept it.
Instead, I opt for the simple, and just as accurate, “No.”
He seems to chew this over. “Do you plan to?”
We’re back to the trust fund again.
“Would you judge me if I did?” I wonder out loud before I can think better of it. I’m curious if George would consider me petulant—a hypocrite—if I insulted Karl and then accepted millions from him in a few months.
“No.” He sounds sincere, if distant.
What I would do doesn’t really matter because the world will reverse its rotation before Karl Newton offers me a penny. Still, I want my answer in the universe. Because I know what it is.
“I don’t. Plan to, that is. I don’t want a cent of his money.”
Darla is right, I realize. I do have too much pride. Because if Karl Newton had a sudden change of heart and decided to write me a check, that payoff could alleviate a lot of stress in my life.
But it would make me feel dirty, too, in a way that accepting Shawn’s money didn’t. It would feel like strings knotted around my limbs leading back to a handle Karl could tug and manipulate until I danced like a puppet for the hateful man.
Still, it doesn’t matter. The option isn’t there, and it never will be.
“You’re an impressive person, Beth Lundberg,” George says with a small smile.
I shrug, embarrassment at the undeserved compliment heating my cheeks. “Not really.”
Now George frowns. “Yes. You are.”
Oh great. We’re back to arguing. At least with him I don’t have the urge to give in and agree to keep him content.
“I’m a decent waitress. Maybe one day I’ll be a pilot. And I have no money. That might be interesting to someone with a boring life, but it’s not impressive.”
“A job and a bank account?” George drags a frustrated hand over his skull. “That’s…I’m not talking about what you do, Beth. I’m talking about who you are.”
“You think you know who I am?”
He doesn’t. Because if he knew, the last word he’d use is “impressive.”
The first one is “liar.”
“Not all of you, no.” His voice deepens. “But sometimes I think I might see more than you realize.”
I roll my eyes. “I bet. How about we see some sky while it’s still light out?”
George’s focus stays on me for a long moment but then he nods and turns back to the plane.
I follow and try to ignore the warmth left in my chest from his words.