28. Brandon
brANDON
A few weeks later
My second shoot for the watchmaker in Los Angeles had been another success.
So good in fact that the client upgraded me to first class for my return flight home to Paris.
I wasn’t going to complain.
Not when I settled into the plush leather seat in the second row. Not when I checked the menu for the flight, my mouth watering over the offerings. And not when I saw the wine list.
A glass of pinot, a good meal, and a long nap as I crossed the country and then an ocean. Sounded like a perfect plan for the flight. I’d been enjoying the little things in life more, and this sure as hell counted.
I closed my eyes, settling into my seat, savoring a little moment.
Then I heard a voice.
One I’d been hearing since a certain flight a couple of months ago.
I’d thought she was just a stranger. That was the role I’d assigned to her.
But I couldn’t get the flight attendant out of my head. Her advice had touched down deep inside me. I wanted to remember her words, to hold on to them, so I’d memorized her voice.
You’ll get there. I can see in your eyes that you’re thinking about it. I know you’ll get there, and you’ll be glad when you tried.
And there was that voice again.
“Can I get you a drink before we take off, Mr. Abernathy?”
My eyes snapped open as she asked the man in front of me for his beverage order.
As if on cue, her gaze traveled to mine. She blinked, then a sliver of a smile tugged at her lips. She returned her focus to her customer, who asked for a bourbon.
A minute later, she brought it to him, then she moved to stand by my seat, a knowing grin on her pretty face. “And what brings you to Paris this time, Mr. Winters?”
My smile spread of its own accord. She remembered my name. “Just heading home.”
“What a coincidence. I live there too. Another American in Paris.”
I sat up straighter, feeling buzzed with possibilities for the first time in ages. “You never told me your name.”
“You never asked.”
I smiled at the beauty in front of me and let her own words be my guide. You’ll be glad when you tried.
“I’m Mr. Winters, as you know. But my friends call me Brandon. And I’d love to know your name.”
Her smile was radiant. “I’m Miss Parker. But my friends call me Serena.”
A few months later, I opened the mailbox at my flat, fishing around for bills or letters. I found an invitation. One I’d known was coming.
I turned and showed it to the woman by my side.
The woman who’d become my lover, my partner, and my friend.
Serena Parker moonlighted as a flight attendant, but her passion was helping others find deep love and intimacy through her podcast.
She was like me. She’d loved and lost, but she was on the other side now.
So was I, and I was loving life with this woman.
We spent our free nights together, dining at off-the-beaten-path restaurants, wandering along curving roads lit by streetlamps, and imagining the places we’d travel together.
We’d go to faraway islands, eat pineapples, and watch the sunset.
Or we’d travel to remote lands, embarking on long hikes that led us to beautiful vistas.
And this time, we’d return to a place I knew well. A place I wanted to go with Serena.
“Would you like to go to a wedding in Vegas with the best man?”
She arched a sexy brow. “I very much would.”