Chapter 46 #2
Then checks it a third time within the span of what can’t be more than sixty seconds.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. Everything’s fine.” His gaze flicks to mine, but he looks away too quickly and he unbuckles the seatbelt he had just fastened. “I just need to ask the captain about something. I’ll be right back.”
He’s up and gone before I can ask what could possibly require a conversation with the pilot before we’ve even closed the cabin door.
Though I’m immediately distracted as Atticus slides across the aisle to take Mason’s empty seat. He leans close enough that his shoulder presses against mine.
I let my head fall against his shoulder. The cashmere of his sweater is soft against my temple, unreasonably soothed by the slight rise and fall as he takes a deep breath.
“I need you to tell me that everything is going to work out,” I tell him quietly.
Atticus is quiet for a moment. His arm comes up around my shoulders, settling with there with casual confidence as he pulls me closer. “I know it will.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“Well, speaking of things working out. I have something to show you.”
He produces his phone and unlocks it one-handed, then tilts the screen toward me so I can watch as he scrolls through his email. I immediately realize that it’s a back and forth between Atticus and the director of the movie he told me about.
Atticus stops at the second-to-last message and waits for me to read it.
From: Atticus
Heard you’re still struggling with casting. Attached is a recording from a live performance and I think you’ll like what you see.
With a few swipes of his thumb, he scrolls to the last email of the exchange, timestamped from earlier this morning.
From: Julian Flynt
Wow! I’ve watched this four times. I’d love to reach out ASAP. Do you have contact info for her rep?
The words blur. I blink hard, then read them again.
“I sent him the video Mason recorded. Which was the plan all along, by the way. No idea how you didn’t figure that out.” Atticus says, voice low and warm as his chin rests on the crown of my head.”He loved it. Obviously. But it’s completely up to you whether you want to follow up.”
My throat closes around something too big to swallow. “You planned this.”
“Guilty.”
“You absolute—” A laugh breaks through, wet and shaky. “This is the best news I’ve gotten all day.”
Atticus’s mouth curves against my hair in a grin. “Second best, actually.”
He jerks his chin toward the front of the cabin.
I twist in my seat.
Two figures duck through the plane door, filling the narrow aisle with broad shoulders and the unmistakable scent of salt air and leather.
Dom comes first, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, silver-streaked hair wind-tossed, dark eyes scanning the cabin until they find me. Behind him, Judah fills the doorway—flannel sleeves rolled to his elbows, gaze moving between me and Mason as he reappears from the cockpit corridor.
I’m out of my seatbelt and on my feet before conscious thought catches up.
“What—how—”
Dom drops the duffel onto the nearest empty seat. “Quit the bar this morning. Derek can find someone else to pour shitty beer for shittier tips.”
Judah ducks under the overhead compartment, a rare full smile cracking his weathered face. “First vacation I’ve taken in years. Mabie will hold down the fort with our crew for a bit.”
My gaze snaps to Mason.
He stands in the aisle between the cockpit and the cabin, hands shoved in his pockets, expression schooled into careful innocence. But the corners of his mouth are twitching. Badly.
“You knew.” I point at him. “You knew they were coming.”
“Dom called me last night.” Mason adjusts his glasses, not quite meeting my eyes. “They were trying to make arrangements, but no one wanted to get your hopes up if they couldn’t sort things out in time.”
I launch myself at Dom first because he’s closest. He catches me like he did at the salvage yard, arms closing around me as my feet leave the ground. His laugh rumbles through his chest and into mine.
“Miss me already?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He does.
When I pull back, Judah is right there. I throw my arms around his neck and feel him huff a surprised breath before one massive arm bands across my back.
Over his shoulder, I watch Mason reach out and grip Judah’s free hand, a quick, fierce squeeze that speaks louder than anything either of them could say.
“EXCUSE ME!”
The voice comes from the back of the plane like a foghorn cutting through a quiet harbor.
Stephanie stands in the rear galley doorway, phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, one hand raised in the universal gesture of I am going to lose my mind. Her head bandage has been replaced with a carefully positioned silk scarf, and her expression could curdle fresh milk.
“This delay is costing the studio four thousand dollars an hour. If there are no more surprise additions to the passenger manifest, we need wheels up in the next five minutes or I am going to start billing people personally!”
I look at Dom. At Judah. At Mason, who has already pulled out his phone and started reorganizing what I assume is an entirely new itinerary. At Atticus, still sprawled in his seat with Gerald Jr. now propped beside him, wearing an expression of pure, unrepentant satisfaction.
“You heard the woman.” I drop back into my seat and buckle in. “Let’s go.”