Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
BLUE
Not sure why, but I expected us to be sitting in a terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson for a while, maybe have time for some drinks to take the anxiety down a notch.
I should have known West traveled by private jet.
In fact, assuming otherwise was my bad, but Dad was going to be glad to know I wasn’t stuck by the window seat, trapped by a stranger who won’t move when I needed to use the restroom.
Meanwhile, I had been so anxious while we spoke to Grams and Gramps that I barely registered the fact that the plane had taken off. I hadn’t even had time to be anxious about my first flight.
But somewhere between joking about condoms and Grams calling West a good dad in the making, my fear of being hurled through the sky in a tin can was forgotten. Or more like shrouded by my attempt to look like a glowing newlywed in front of the two most observant people I’d ever met.
Once we had finished talking about the hard stuff, Jesse and Easton joined and I felt an instant friendship form with Jesse.
She made the rest of the conversations seem easier.
She and I talked about things we could do together, swapped numbers, and giggled like we’d known each other longer than a few hours.
From there, the conversation between the six of us had become surprisingly easy.
They asked about my family, and I told them about my dad.
When they realized I was around the same age as Miles—a full decade younger than West—they didn’t even blink.
If it bothered them, they didn't show it.
In fact, nothing seemed to bother them. They took everything in stride with the kind of grace and good humor that made me understand instantly why West wanted to tell them the truth.
Telling them we were married, even if it was messy and rushed, and probably looked a little suspicious, felt better than lying.
And to my complete shock, they seemed genuinely happy for us.
Satisfied. As though they believed we were actually in love.
Maybe a part of them even thought we were lucky to have found each other at all.
Still, once the pilot announced we were beginning our descent, my stomach launched itself into my throat and I reached for the last swallow of bourbon in West’s glass. I tipped it back, probably too fast, and slammed the empty glass down just as West leaned over.
"See? Not pregnant," he said with a crooked smile to his grandparents.
"Not pregnant," I echoed. "Just nervous. I know planes have to land, but I’ve never done this before."
"Most people are worried about taking off," he said, brushing his thumb gently across the back of my hand.
"Yeah, well, I was too busy panicking about you being a bougie dad to remember I was suspended in the air at 30,000 feet inside a glorified soda can."
He smiled, soft and reassuring. "Hang onto my hand, Blue. I promise it’s going to be okay."
I nodded and squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see the way everyone else was reacting.
I didn’t want to see out the window, or worse, a flaming engine.
I was visibly trembling now, but West's grip tightened, grounding me. When the landing gear lowered with a loud mechanical thunk, a tear slipped down my cheek and I couldn’t even stop it.
West leaned in, his voice barely a whisper in my ear. "It’s okay."
His thumb brushed the tear away like it was second nature to him.
I kept my eyes closed and focused on his voice, his touch, the warmth of his hand in mine.
Maybe it was all part of the act for his grandparents.
Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I let myself believe it and used the strength he was giving me. Just for a minute.
"Open your eyes," he said gently. "We’re safe on the ground."
I opened them slowly, surprised to see Grams across from me, fanning herself. Her cheeks had regained a little color, but her eyes were wide and watery.
"I hate that part too," she confessed, offering a shaky smile. "I’ve done it a few times, and I still don’t like it."
That actually helped. I laughed a soft, broken sound that finally cleared the tightness in my chest. West and Gramps laughed as well, launching into a series of jokes about ‘nervous ladies,’ while Jesse, ever the calm cucumber, just sipped her sparkling water.
Easton joined the peanut gallery, tossing a wink my way and letting me know he saw the whole show.
The teasing didn’t let up until we got to the hotel and Easton went to the front desk to check us in.
When he returned, he had key cards and handed them out. "I’m glad I booked when I did. Everyone and their mother is in town for Loxley’s show. The rooms are sold out."
"What floor are we on?" West asked casually as we walked toward the elevator.
"Nine," Easton said, hitting the button. "Three rooms, all next to each other."
West looked over, a little confused. "What about—"
"Miles and Lox have their own suite," Easton said, waving him off. "Didn’t need to worry about them."
"No, I meant for—"
I cut him off with a hand on his arm and leaned in close. "I hope we got the honeymoon suite," I said softly, subtly reminding him that we were supposed to be married. That extra room he was angling for? Definitely not part of the story.
"You better take her on a better honeymoon than this, West," Grams smacked West lightly with her purse.
"We’re going to," I said quickly, smoothing it over. "After we figure out the bar stuff. I’m thinking Paris, maybe." I looked up at West, hoping he’d play along.
"Anywhere you want," he said, arm curling protectively around me as the elevator doors opened. We all stepped in and rode quietly to the ninth floor.
When we exited into the hallway, Grams and Gramps took the first door. Easton and Jesse followed, taking the second door and announcing they were taking a nap before the show later. Finally, West and I arrived at our room at the end of the hall and I sighed dramatically.
"Don’t worry. These rooms always have two beds, so no unnecessary touching will be going on," I teased.
"Yeah," he said, though his voice was a little too quiet. He was still thrown by the idea of us sharing a room, even after all this.
"Easton knows we’re married. He wasn’t going to book two rooms."
"You’re right," he said as he slid the card into the lock on the door. "Good catch, by the way. I just forgot for a second."
With a quiet beep, the door unlocked, and I stepped through, only to stop short like I’d hit an invisible wall.
It was gorgeous. Luxurious. The room had intricate moldings, velvet drapes, and a private balcony overlooking the ocean. The bathroom was the size of my entire bedroom back home, complete with a clawfoot tub, a rainfall shower, and those hotel robes.
But none of that mattered. Because right in the center of the room, in all its marshmallow-soft glory, was a single king-sized bed and West and I stared at it.
"Well,” I cleared my throat. “Guess we’ll be getting really good at this fake marriage thing."