Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“For making all of my dreams come true. For being my person.
For just being you.”
I want to say more, but sleep claims me before I can utter
another word.
But I know I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
I love a man of action.
Christian made all our arrangements and even packed for both
of us while I handled endless calls and texts. Nora had several interviews
lined up for me, and between them and talking to family, I have almost no
voice.
But it’s been so worth it.
Now, as we board the red-eye flight to Florida, I’m looking
forward to rest.
We’ve mastered the art of sleeping on planes after so many
years of traveling, and I’m relieved we’ll wake up in the morning slightly
refreshed so we can hit the ground running with our families.
It takes several minutes of pulling out pillows, eye masks,
earplugs, and whatnot before we can safely tuck our bags under our seats. It’s
not like we’ll instantly fall asleep, but everything is now comfortably within
reach, so we can settle in.
“You’re a genius,” I murmur.
“Me? How do you figure that?”
“I didn’t think it would be possible for us to get on a
plane in less than twenty-four hours.”
The look he gives me is a little cocky, but adorable.
“Seriously? We’ve flown on shorter notice before.”
“No, I know that, but this trip was trickier because you had
no idea how long those interviews would be.”
“That’s why we’re on the red eye. There was no way you would
still be talking to any entertainment sites at ten at night. This was the safe
choice.”
“Brilliant.” I sigh happily and secure my seat belt. “I love
that our moms are working together to coordinate lunch tomorrow. I can’t wait
to see everyone, and for everyone to meet Emmy. She’s a member of the family
now,” I say with a giggle. “Oh, I can’t wait for Emmy to meet MVP!” referring
to Christian’s World Series MVP trophy.
She’s lovingly packed in my carry-on suitcase in the
overhead bin. There was no way I was trusting her in any checked luggage.
“You are going to be celebrated for sure,” he says, taking
my hand and linking our fingers together. “I can’t even imagine how many people
will be there.”
“The last head count was twenty-seven. Not including us.”
“Wow.”
“I know.”
We sit back and people watch for a few minutes, and I don’t
fully relax until the pilot announces that we are clear for takeoff.
That’s when I know it’s almost time to go to sleep.
Only…I don’t.
The flight attendants do a quick offering of snacks and
beverages, and we decide to eat and drink a little something. I watch a few
episodes of a home renovation show to help me unwind, but by the third episode,
I’ve lost interest. Yet I’m still not quite ready to doze off.
Which is weird for me.
It’s quiet in that strange way airplanes always are after
midnight—dimmed lights, a low hum, shadows of strangers tucked beneath
blankets. Christian’s hand is warm, threaded through mine where it rests
between us, and even though I should be exhausted after the craziness of the
last few days, I’m wide awake.
He shifts slightly, tilting his head toward me. “You okay?”
he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“I’m fine,” I whisper back. “I don’t know why I’m still
awake.”
He smiles, eyes barely open. “I promise no one’s going to
steal your Emmy. They’ll have to get through me first. I’m all over it.” The
words are barely out before he yawns.
I roll my eyes, even as warmth fills my chest. “My hero.”
“We don’t all wear capes,” he says, soft amusement in his
voice, but then his eyes meet mine. His expression grows serious. “I’m proud of
you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being proud of you.”
I swallow, trying not to get emotional at thirty thousand
feet. “Thank you. I’m still processing it. It feels unreal. Like I borrowed
someone else’s moment.”
“Yeah,” he says gently, squeezing my hand. “Except you
didn’t. You earned it. You worked for it. And I got the best seat in the world,
watching it happen.”
I lean into his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his
breathing. “The next few days are going to be crazy,” I whisper. “Family chaos.
Pictures. Hugs. My mom crying…”
“Your dad pretending he isn’t,” he adds with a grin I can
hear more than see.
“And maybe yours finally being impressed.”
“I don’t know. He could surprise you,” he says, a quiet
laugh beneath his breath.
We fall into a comfortable silence; each temporarily lost in
our own thoughts.
“Hey,” he murmurs after a moment, softer now. “I’m glad we
get this time. Just us. Even if it is in cramped airplane seats.”
“Me, too,” I whisper. “Right now feels…good.”
He turns his head and presses a light kiss to my temple.
“Get some sleep, Mrs. Emmy Winner.”
I let my eyes close, the world narrowing to his warmth, the
muted hum of the plane, and the steady certainty of the man beside me.
“Only if you do, too,” I murmur.
“Already ahead of you,” he breathes. His hand stays in mine
as we finally drift off to sleep.
The airport’s quiet as we walk to baggage claim and
then head over to pick up our rental car. I wouldn’t say I’m well-rested, but
I’m mildly refreshed.
Christian loads our luggage into the trunk, and when he’s
seated behind the wheel, he’s all smiles.
He is definitely more of a morning person than I am.
At least today he is.
“Hey, so it’s obviously super early, and I don’t think I’m
ready to jump into the whole family chaos yet. How would you like to stop for
breakfast?”
It’s not the worst idea.
“Sure. That sounds good. Where do you want to go?”
“I was talking to my brother last week, and he mentioned
this new place he said makes the best breakfasts. Like…the best omelets, the
best waffles, muffins as big as your head…”
I start to laugh, even as my stomach growls. “Well, now we
have to go. The best omelets and muffins as big as your head? That
sounds too good to pass up.”
“Excellent!”
The drive from the airport is familiar, and we can
practically do it on autopilot. And while I’m curious about where this
restaurant is, I assume it’s on the way.
We’re going to my parents’ house first, and I wonder if I
should text and let them know we’re stopping to eat before we get there.
“Uh-oh…”
Turning his head, Christian frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“You know my mom is probably planning on us eating breakfast
with them. I should probably let her know so she’s not worried, right?”
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” he murmurs. “So…yeah, sure.
Text her and let her know where we’re at.”
“Okay.” And I do.
The second I slip my phone back into my purse, my eyes start
drifting shut. I am feeling the effects of the red-eye flight now.
“How much longer until we’re there?” I ask.
“About twenty-five minutes. Don’t worry. I’ll wake you,” he
assures me, and I happily drift off.
It’s only when I feel the car come to a complete stop that I
open my eyes. “Are we there?”
I sleepily look around, not recognizing anything. We’re not
in a restaurant parking lot. We’re in a residential neighborhood. But not one
that either of our families lives in. This one looks like it’s still under
construction.
“Um…Christian?”
“Hmm?”
“Are we lost?”
“I told you, we’re going to breakfast.” He says it so
casually, so lightly. Like it makes perfect sense.
But it doesn’t.
“There’s a restaurant in the middle of a neighborhood?” I
ask with amusement, straightening in my seat. There aren’t many houses, but
several are under construction. “I’m so confused right now.”
He reaches over and gives my thigh an affectionate squeeze.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be there in like two minutes.”
I laugh nervously. “Where?”
The only answer I get is a soft chuckle.
We drive past a few more unfinished homes until we stop in
front of one of them.
“We’re here,” he says, as if it explains everything.
I look at the house and then back at my husband. “Okay, am I
still asleep? Because there is no way a house under construction serves
breakfast. It’s just not possible,” I joke.
Beside me, Christian twists in his seat to face me. And, in
his typical, loving way, takes my hand in his.
“The other night—after we got home from the awards show—you
said something to me that…well…didn’t sit right.”
All I can do is stare because I have no idea what he’s
talking about.
“You told me I made all your dreams come true,” he said
gruffly, his thumb gently stroking my wrist. “That wasn’t exactly true.”
“What are you even talking about? Of course, it’s true. Our
entire relationship…all the things we’ve done…”
“Please,” he says quietly. “I need to say this.”
So, I sit and patiently wait.
“That first move to St. Louis, you told me you were
disappointed because you envisioned our lives in California. It was close to