Chapter Thirty-One Claire #2
Thankfully, the forward flight attendant interrupts with her announcement that boarding is over.
I have to get back to work, so I send Mr. Oversized Bags to the front and follow him up the aisle, closing all the bins.
I give a thumbs-up that I’m ready to arm the doors, and while I wait for the signal to do so, I log in to Instagram and find Nathan’s page.
I attach our picture and am debating how to caption it when the other flight attendant makes her PA. So I just hit the Post button. Done.
I arm the doors, then walk the aisle a second time, checking for seat belts. On my return to the aft galley, Nathan holds up his phone with our picture on it.
“Sir.” I use my most professional tone. “I’m going to have to ask you to put your phone in Airplane Mode now.”
He clicks his tongue. “Or what? You’ll pull out your sock and soda on me?”
I laugh at the image of such overkill, then shake my head at his seatmate, Mr. Oversized Bags. “It’s no wonder they put you two at the back of the bus. You’re trouble.”
The other man isn’t as amused. He turns his glare from me to Nathan. “Airplane Mode.”
“Okay, okay.” Nathan holds out a palm in surrender. Then he grins at me. “Home, James.”
I wonder if he’d say that if he knew the origin of the phrase.
I poke my head and shoulders through the galley to continue our conversation, feeling like Sparrow.
“I’ve decided not to use that expression anymore because I learned it originated when Queen Victoria didn’t want to use her carriage driver’s last name, Darling. ”
He lifts a shoulder. “So you’re going to start saying ‘Home, Darling’ now instead?”
“If I’m talking to my darling,” I retort, before remembering I don’t have a darling anymore. There goes my lighthearted banter once again.
I return to my duties, cringing. By the time we take off and I finish cart service, my mind is made up. I’m requesting a transfer back to Seattle. Not only has it become my home, but it offers the potential for career advancement through a training position. And I’ve always enjoyed teaching.
With fifteen minutes before another trash run and thirty minutes before landing prep, I’ve got time to bid for transfer. I pull out my phone and tap on the Wi-Fi connection.
An instant message appears from Wyatt. My gut attempts to churn up my peace.
I knew saying no to moving in with him wouldn’t make him happy, but I hadn’t expected all his lashing out.
I’d only planned to set a boundary, but because of his refusal to respect it, breaking up was the only healthy choice.
It’s just hard to end things when you’re still in contact.
I tap on the messaging app.
I see you’re flying with Nathan again. Perhaps I was right about you all along.
My stomach drops faster than this plane could. I lean on the very wall Nathan has his back against.
Should I feel guilty? Somehow being falsely accused hurts even more than if I’d done something wrong. Wyatt saw the photo only because I have nothing to hide. But maybe I need to block him to protect us both from more misunderstandings and added pain.
At that very moment, Nathan strolls into my galley. He reaches for the doorknob to the lavatory, turning to nod at me before entering. He pauses. His eyes narrow. “What’s wrong?”
I clutch my stomach. How much do I share?
He closes the door and steps closer to lean against the galley counter across from me. “Are you okay?”
I look up to the vent overhead. My heartbeat pulses in my ears. Nathan obviously isn’t going to leave until I say something, but what?
“Claire?”
I lower my gaze to meet his. He’s got this concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. And he studies me in a way that makes me think he’ll see the truth whether I admit it or not.
“Wyatt saw the picture I posted of us and claims it’s proof that there’s been something going on between you and me.”
He blinks his dark eyes as if I’d really used a soda in a sock on him. He opens his mouth, then covers it with a hand, holding back words. Now I feel even more guilty for dragging him into my drama.
“I’m sorry.” He drops his hand, revealing his grimace. “You don’t deserve false accusations like this.”
A tear escapes. Nathan seems more concerned for me than himself, and his unexpected compassion highlights what had been missing in my relationship with Wyatt. How do I properly mourn the loss of something that had never been mine?
Nathan takes a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”
Now my pulse revs for a whole other reason. Is he going to tell me the accusation is not completely false?
It would be so easy to fall into Nathan’s arms to make myself feel better. He’s handsome, the way his grandma used to say. And we have fun together. But as I’m still crying over someone else, dating him could be as selfish as my fear of losing Wyatt.
I try to read his dark eyes for hints as to what he wants to say. But they’re guarded more than they’ve ever been.
Unsure about what to even hope for, I prepare to listen. “Please.”
“I ran into my ex on Thanksgiving.”
This is not what I’d expected, but if he’s getting back together with Joey, I should be happy for him. “Joey?”
Nathan nods. “Remember how I told you she’d cheated on me?”
My eyes widen. Because it sounds as if he relates more to Wyatt. “Yes.”
“She didn’t.”
I shake my head in confusion. Did he lie? Why is he telling me this?
His jaw shifts side to side. “I’d accused her of cheating because that’s what I’d experienced when my mom left my dad.
It’s almost like I’d expected it. Turns out Joey had simply found fulfillment in her new job, which required spending a lot of time with a coworker.
I broke our engagement more out of fear than anything. ”
My chest rises and falls as I breathe in all these implications. He’d harmed his ex out of his fear of losing her. He’d also harmed himself. If not for Nathan’s misbelief, he could be happily married right now.
My stomach settles with the same peace that came over me when setting boundaries with Wyatt. At least Nathan is getting a second chance.
He glances down, then back up with resolve. “Wyatt must be facing the same struggle.”
I squint in confusion, then realize Nathan doesn’t know Wyatt and I broke up. But his analogy makes sense. “Wyatt’s last girlfriend really did cheat on him.”
Nathan’s eyes glint with what I assume is their shared pain. He reaches a hand as if to comfort me, then stops and crosses his arms. “You can delete the picture of us from social media if it helps. I don’t want to get in your way.”
Too late for that, though it’s kind of him to offer. I pinch my lips together, not trusting myself to respond.
Nathan not only studies me but drills me with eye contact, as if it will help press upon me the importance of what he has to say. “For your sake, I hope Wyatt doesn’t make the same mistake I did. You should be loved by someone who would rather lose you than harm you.”
My heart hitches. I’ve never had a man love me like that. Romeo didn’t even love Juliet like that. Which was a real tragedy.
Thankfully, I’ve learned my worth doesn’t come from a man but from God. He loved us all enough to give us the free will to leave Him. Then He died on the cross to take all the harm from that decision onto Himself. I am loved.
“Thank you.”
Nathan lowers his head so that I only see the crown of his glossy dark hair.
When he finally looks back up, his gaze is a caress—the kind that makes women flock to rom-coms. I don’t mean he’s giving me one of those arrogant smolders, which are sexy and thrilling in the Hollywood way.
Rather, he offers a humble vulnerability that shows he sees others as better than himself.
He’s capable of lasting commitment. He’ll be buried next to the woman he marries.
And that’s the real reason women adore romance.
In this very moment when I finally admit I might be falling in love with Nathan, he says, “I’ll pray everything works out for you two.”