Chapter 18
September 18, 2024
I wake up on an airplane. My heart jumps in my chest at the shock of opening my eyes and finding myself in the air.
For a few seconds, I take in my surroundings. It’s dark in the cabin. This must be a late-night flight. Yawning, I blink until my eyes adjust to the dimness. That’s when I notice I don’t have anyone sitting on either side of me. I’m sitting in what looks like a roomy private capsule. Oh damn. I’m flying in first class.
Beside me, I hear a low groan that I recognize immediately. I slide back the partition and see Milo leaning forward in his seat-capsule thing as he stretches. The white T-shirt he wears rides up his torso, blessing me with a peek of his hard, tan stomach.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says through a sleepy half smile. He squints at the window near my seat. “Or maybe I should say, ‘Good middle of the night.’”
The pilot makes an announcement—first in English, then in Portuguese—about the possibility of some minor turbulence over the next leg of the flight.
“Should be cleared up by the time we cruise over France, then smooth skies all the way to Heathrow.”
Milo reaches over to tuck a chunk of my hair behind my ear. “Thanks again for being such a good sport about this. I know leaving for two weeks on such short notice was a colossal ask. My mom was so excited to finally meet you in person, though.”
I put it all together: we’re traveling back from Portugal, where Milo’s family lives, after an impromptu visit.
I think of the phone conversation we had a few months ago, how she sounded like she genuinely liked me, how heartened I was. Since then, she’s said hello to me in text-message conversations with Milo. She’s always so sweet and attentive, making sure to ask how I’m doing and telling Milo to take care of me.
As good and comforting as that felt, a sliver of doubt lingered at the back of my mind. Milo’s mom sounded lovely on the phone and over text, but would she be like that in person? Or would she dislike me if she actually met me?
I hate how pessimistic and negative it is for me to think that. But my experience with Portia Chase left me skittish about significant others’ mothers and how they truly feel about me.
But when I focus on Milo’s gaze, I spot a warmth in his eyes and in his smile that tells me this visit must have gone well. And even though I don’t yet know his mother and can’t recall any part of this trip, there’s a swell in my chest.
“She loves you. She couldn’t get over how good you were with my grandma. With how bad her dementia is getting, she has a hard time with new people. But you were so patient with her, and that meant a lot to my mom.”
There’s a warmth to his expression that I don’t think I’ve seen before. But I recognize it. He’s feeling something deep, something joyful. Like what I felt when I saw him and Jordan getting along. It’s a feeling that everyone hopes for, that their family will like their significant other.
He reaches over, scoops my hand in his, and smiles. “You two got on like a house on fire.”
“Did we?”
“Yeah. Like old friends. I was kinda shocked, honestly.”
“Good shocked?”
He cups my cheek with his hand. “Very good shocked. Daniela Costa-Chase is officially your biggest fan.”
I can’t help the relief and joy that swells inside me. Maybe it’s because I know just how shitty it feels when your significant other’s mother hates you.
“Well, that’s good,” I say. “Because I’m her biggest fan too.”