CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
SOPHIA
He’d dozed off halfway through our second movie, his breathing deepening until his head tilts toward me, hair brushing my cheek. I don’t mind. I like watching him like this—face relaxed, defenses down, the perpetual good humor in his expression softened into something more vulnerable.
A flight attendant passes silently through our cabin, checking on sleeping passengers, adjusting a blanket here and there.
When she notices me awake, she offers a questioning thumbs-up toward Business Premier.
I nod, understanding her silent question.
She mouths “still sleeping” with a smile, confirming Madison is lost to the world in her pod, no doubt exhausted from the excitement and the three desserts she’d managed to consume before finally reclining her seat.
The night stretches ahead of us—hours of enforced stillness over the vast Pacific. Time suspended in this metal tube between our old life and whatever waits for us in New Zealand.
I study Jack’s profile in the dim light.
The faint stubble along his jaw. The slight furrow between his brows even in sleep.
The curve of his mouth that always seems ready to smile.
This man who’d transferred to Medic 402 just for more chances to see me.
Who teaches Madison to make pasta. Who’d upgraded our flights with mysterious “points” and looked at me like I was something precious.
This man. This moment. The sheer audacity of it.
Why not?
The thought comes from nowhere—or maybe from somewhere deep inside me that had been dormant for too long. A part of me that has not been consulted during the careful, responsible years of single motherhood. The version of Sophia who exists before scrub caps and badge reels and divorce papers.
I slip from beneath Jack’s head, carefully lowering him against the headrest. He makes a small sound of protest but doesn’t wake.
The cabin floor is cool beneath my sock-covered feet as I make my way forward, toward the galley where a flight attendant is quietly organizing breakfast trays for the morning service.
She looks up, surprised to see a passenger vertical. “Can I help you with something?” Her name tag reads Aroha, and her smile is kind beneath professional politeness.
“I hope so,” I say, my voice low. “This is going to sound strange…”
I pull out my phone, scrolling quickly to the video I’d saved—Jack diving into that wrecked car, pulling the family to safety while metal groaned and gasoline leaked. The footage that had gone viral and made him briefly internet famous.
“That’s him,” I say, nodding back toward our row. “He’s a paramedic. We’re on our first real vacation since…” I hesitate. “Well, first one in forever. He upgraded us with his points. My daughter’s in Business Premier, completely over the moon.”
Aroha’s eyes widen slightly as she watches the video. “I remember this. It was all over the news. He pulled that whole family out?”
“Every one of them,” I confirm. “That’s just who he is.” I take a deep breath, then lean closer, dropping my voice further. “Listen, this is completely out of character for me, but…I was wondering if there might be a way I could…uhm…thank him properly.” I feel my cheeks heat. “In private.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by a spark of amusement. For a terrifying moment, I think she might laugh or, worse, report me to the captain for even suggesting it.
Instead, she glances each way down the aisle, then back at me with a conspirator’s smile. “Forward lavatory in Premium Economy. Ten minutes, after I finish this inventory. I’ll make sure it stays…unoccupied.” She winks. “For the hero.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, equal parts mortified and thrilled. “Seriously.”
“We Kiwis look after our own,” she says. “And their partners.”
I make my way back to our seats, heart hammering against my ribs.
Am I really doing this? Responsible, careful Sophia Mitchell planning to sneak into an airplane bathroom with a man nearly six years her junior?
My mother would faint. Madison would die of embarrassment. And Troy…Troy would never believe it.
That last thought strengthens my resolve. Troy, who’d made me feel like my desires were unimportant. Who’d never bothered to learn what I liked, what I needed. Who’d treated sex as a transaction rather than a connection.
Jack dozes on, oblivious to my racing thoughts and reckless plans. He looks impossibly young and peaceful in sleep, and for a moment I waver. Maybe I should just curl up beside him, enjoy the comfort of his warmth, and save the adventure for another time.
No. I am done with safer paths, with putting off joy, with saving things for someday. Someday is now, 35,000 feet above the Pacific, with this man who looks at me like I hung the moon.
I take a deep breath and gently poke his shoulder.
His eyes open immediately, blinking in the low light. I see the moment awareness returns—first recognition, then a drowsy warmth, then a flicker of question as he registers my posture, my expression.
“Jack,” I whisper, bending close to his ear. “Come with me.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He unbuckles his seatbelt and follows me into the aisle, moving with that quiet, controlled grace that had first caught my attention all those months ago.
I lead him toward the front of the Premium Economy cabin, conscious of every rustle, every shift of another passenger. The lavatory light shows green—unoccupied. Just as Aroha had promised. Jack’s hand finds mine, his fingers warm and certain as they intertwine with my own.
“Sophia?” he whispers, question clear in his voice.
I don’t answer, just pull him toward the lavatory door. His eyes widen as understanding dawns, that familiar smile spreading across his face—half amused, half hungry.
We slip inside, the automatic door closes behind us with a soft pneumatic hiss. The lock clicks into place, and suddenly we are alone, truly alone, in a space barely big enough for one person, let alone two adults with intentions.
Jack’s eyes never leave mine as reality settles over us. “Are we really—”
“Yes,” I say, and kiss him before he could finish.
The kiss ignites instantly. Urgent, fierce, and reckless—the pure thrill of knowing we were doing something forbidden surges between us.
Jack’s hands slide down my sides, settling possessively on my hips, pulling me closer until every inch of him presses tightly against me.
My heart pounds at the unmistakable hardness pressing into my thigh.
His lips trace hot paths along my neck, and I shiver as his breath whispers against my skin. “Whose idea was this again? Because she’s a bloody genius.”
“Flight attendant helped,” I whisper, already fumbling at his belt. “But we don’t have long.”
He chuckles softly, deep in his chest. “Then let’s not waste a second.”
His palms slip down further, cupping my buttocks firmly, squeezing gently. He murmurs against my ear, his accent thick with desire. “Heaven. Just like I thought.”
My breath catches as I press tighter against him, reveling in the sensation of his hands gripping me. His fingers slide lower, guiding my pants and panties down just enough to make his intentions clear. The air in the tiny lavatory feels charged, electric with anticipation.
With practiced ease, he lifts me onto the narrow counter, porcelain cold beneath my thighs, and settles between them. We both gasp softly as he eases inside me, my body yielding to him in one smooth, deep thrust.
For a moment, there is only sensation—the way he fills me completely, stretching me, our breaths mingling as we adjust to each other. He begins to move slowly, carefully, conscious of the cramped space.
But the position quickly proves awkward, limited. I need more—I need him closer, deeper, harder. “Wait,” I whisper breathlessly, pressing a hand against his chest.
He pulls back instantly, concern flickering briefly across his face. “Are you—?”
“Turn me around,” I say, my voice husky and commanding in a way I’d forgotten I could be. “Bend me over. I want you deeper.”
Jack’s eyes darken further, desire flaring hotly at my words.
Without hesitation, he helps me off the counter, turning me around gently but swiftly.
My hands brace against the wall, and his body covers mine, his mouth finding the sensitive spot beneath my ear as he presses into me again from behind.
“Oh God,” I breathe, arching instinctively, needing every inch of him buried deep within me. “Yes. Just like that.”
His breath rasps against my neck as he begins to move with powerful, purposeful thrusts, the awkwardness forgotten as pleasure overwhelms every other sensation.
My hands press harder against the cool plastic wall, bracing myself as his hips surge forward again and again, each thrust deeper and more insistent than the last.
I am lost in the feel of him, the delicious friction, the heat and intensity that had built between us finally unleashed. Jack’s hand slides around my hip, fingertips brushing teasingly against the sensitive spot between my legs, and I nearly cry out before catching myself.
“God, Jack,” I gasp, pressing back into him, feeling every bit as reckless and free as the woman who’d marched up to a flight attendant to arrange this madness. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Never,” he groans softly, voice tight with pleasure and determination. “You feel incredible.”
We move in perfect rhythm, desperation growing, our breathing shallow and rapid.
He thrusts deeper still, pressing me closer against the wall, and a delicious pressure builds, coiling tighter with each movement.
I tilt my head back against his shoulder, panting softly into his neck, aware we needed to remain quiet but nearly overwhelmed by the force of what he was making me feel.
“Sophia,” Jack murmurs roughly, his voice thick with urgency. “I’m close.”
My own climax is spiraling higher, dangerously close to shattering me. In a boldness I’d forgotten I possessed, I tilt my head slightly, whispering breathlessly into his ear:
“I want to feel all of you, Jack. Fill me completely. I want to feel you inside me, even when we land on the other side of the world.”
My words break something in him. His hips surge forward urgently, powerfully, driving me to the edge and beyond.
I bite down on my lip to hold back the cry of pure pleasure, my body trembling as wave after wave of release crashes through me.
Moments later, Jack stills behind me, pressing deep as his body tenses, his breath catching harshly against my shoulder as he finds his own release, filling me just as I’d asked.
We stay like that, bodies locked together, breaths mingling softly, the absurdity of our situation finally catching up to us. Jack rests his forehead gently against my back, breathing heavily, a soft laugh escapes him.
“God,” he murmurs, voice still rough. “When you said you liked the accent, I had no idea it would lead here.”
I laugh breathlessly, still shaky and overwhelmed by sensation. “Neither did I.”
Cleanup is quick but gentle, a quiet, intimate ritual as we redress, exchange sheepish smiles and quiet laughter. As Jack helps straighten my sweater, he catches my eyes in the mirror, his expression tender and warm.
“You’re full of surprises, Sophia Mitchell,” he whispers softly. “And I adore every one of them.”
I press a lingering kiss to his lips, savoring the closeness one last moment before we face the world again. “Likewise, Jack McKenzie.”
He slips out first, promising to check the coast was clear, and I take a moment alone to catch my breath. My cheeks are flushed, my hair a tousled mess, but something in my eyes is new. Alive, confident, radiant.
This is not the careful, cautious Sophia who plans meticulously, who weighs every choice. This is Sophia, the woman who’d just claimed what she wanted, unapologetically and passionately. Who doesn’t just react to life, but seizes it.
And I like her very much.
When I emerge a minute later, the cabin is still dark and quiet. Aroha catches my eye from the galley and gives me a discreet thumbs-up. I nod my thanks, feeling my cheeks heat again, and make my way back to our seats.
Jack is waiting, looking unfairly composed except for the telltale darkness of his eyes and the slight flush along his cheekbones. He lifts the armrest between us as I settle in, pulling me against his side, his lips brushing my temple.
“That,” he whispers, “was the best wake-up call I’ve ever had.”
I snuggle closer, enjoying the solid warmth of him. “Better than a red-eye?”
“Much better.” His fingers trace lazy patterns on my arm. “Though I wouldn’t say no to coffee later.”
We fall into comfortable silence, the plane humming around us, the miles passing beneath us in the darkness. I feel my eyelids growing heavy, the aftermath of wine and adrenaline and release finally catching up to me.
“Sleep, tāku ipo, ” Jack murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against my ear. “You’ve earned it.”
As I drift off, nestled against his shoulder, a fleeting thought surfaces—how many points did a paramedic really need to accumulate for premium seats?—before dissolving into the soft edges of sleep. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this moment, this man, this adventure we are on together.
New Zealand waits on the horizon, with all its mysteries and beauty.
And so does Jack’s family.
But for now, in the liminal space between worlds, there is just us.
And that is more than enough.