37. Will
Chapter thirty-seven
Will
Shortly after we get in the taxi to the airport, it becomes clear that Mia has obeyed the letter, but not the spirit of my request that she covers travel and accommodation only. She’s organized the use of Craig’s private plane—her plane, now, it turns out.
There’s something about going to an airport that feels like I have the entire world in the palm of my hand. That I could go anywhere; anything could happen. That there’s a whole world of opportunity out there, just waiting for me to jump in.
Traveling by private jet is even better. The ‘I could go anywhere’ thing; well, that’s much, much more true. That’s exactly why I want to learn to fly. I’ve finally, just last week at Matt’s urging, booked lessons for February. I’m so excited for them.
It’s nice to have something to look forward to that doesn’t rely on Mia and her decision about us. She told me she needed more time, but Mia is not a person who makes decisions quickly, so who knows how long I’ll have to wait. Matt convinced me that I shouldn’t—can't—pause my life waiting for her to make a decision.
Mia approaches airports with military precision. Arrive on time, check your bags no later than ten minutes before bag check closes, ensure you’re through security with long enough to get a coffee. She’s never on time for anything else, but airports? They’re her jam. Flying private, though? As long as you don’t miss your flight window, you can show up as early or as late as you want. Thankfully, Mia’s normal ‘don’t be late for the airport’ energy follows through even when she’s flying private.
Mia has organized this on purpose. Usually she and Abigail travel business class, but she’s decided the private jet is a waste of money. And she’s not necessarily wrong about that, but fuck, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
We’re the only people on the plane, obviously, so we can speak quite openly as soon as we take off. After some quick planning of the discovery session Mia will be running when we arrive, we lapse into companionable quiet, which gives me plenty of time to think.
If we progress with a relationship, will this be my life? Following Mia around the world, flying private like I’m some kind of sugar baby? It’s not that it would be a bad life, of course not, but I’d be stupid to tie my entire life to hers and not have my own goals and dreams. Hell, running these resorts isn’t even her dream.
I must have sighed loud enough for Mia to hear.
“What?” she demands.
“Nothing,” I say, teasing. “Just wondering if you still remember what it was like, being a normal person.”
“I am a normal person,” she says, reaching out to swat at me. I catch her arm, running my hand down until I grasp her hand.
Neither of us let go.
“Yes, Mia. I’m sure you are. In fact, it’s very believable, you saying that while we’re currently on a plane—a private jet, no less—a plane you own , flying to a ski-resort in Italy that you also happen to own. Super normal person stuff.” She squeezes my hand, so I know she knows I’m just kidding around. “Anyway, you’re an extremely normal person, as previously established. As a normal person myself, though, this is weird, right? We can admit that.”
She releases my hand, taking her hair clip out of her hair and running her fingers through the strands. I’m mesmerized.
“It is weird. It’s weird for me and I definitely think if I were in your situation I’d be feeling pretty weird. I do get it. Because I’m a normal person.” She says, with a sly grin. She continues combing her fingers through her hair. “It’s weird, but does it actually bother you?
“I guess it’s not so much that it bothers me,” I speak slowly, trying to sort my thoughts out as I go. “It’s more I think I have to acknowledge it.”
I watch her searching my face. I don’t know what she’s looking for. Some kind of sign that I had been truthful, I supposed.
“I guess I can see how that could be a problem in a relationship,” Mia says. She, too, speaks slowly and deliberately. I nod. “But we know each other already, right? I think I would feel weirder about it if it was a person I didn’t already know.”
She has a good point. It’s pretty unlikely her entire personality will change because of the money. That doesn’t stop the worry that has been translating into tension across my shoulders, though.
“I think I’d worry about whether my suggestions had the same weight in a relationship.” I avert my gaze, focusing out the window.
She tucks her hands under her thighs, pursing her lips. “Do you mean you don’t think I would listen to you?” I shake my head, trying to figure out how to describe it. “It’s a power thing?”
I nod, furrowing my brow to hide my embarrassment. “I guess so, yeah.”
“I mean—you are allowed to have boundaries in a relationship. You know that, right? Good relationships have boundaries, and that’s okay. I think we could find a way through.” She picks at her nails. “If you did want to try something, I mean.”
“But we would always have an imbalance. Regardless of how much money I earn, ever in my life, I’m never going to get close to this.” I gesture around me. “You don’t care about that? Even a little bit?” I recognize the irony that she’s the one being open this time, and I’m the hesitant one.
She takes my hand. “Sounds stupid and flippant, maybe, but easy come, easy go. Who I am as a person hasn’t changed. And I’m working really, really, fucking hard so that it doesn’t.” Mia squeezes my hand. I squeeze back. “I’m terrified that in a year, I’ll look around and none of my best friends will be there because I’ve changed so much, I don’t recognize anything. Even agreeing to do this job is so much for me. It sounds really dumb, but I was happy before. I had enough. This is more, but it’s more everything, including much more stressful.” She looks out the window at the clouds. She sounds so sad, I want to protect her from the world. “I don’t know that I can cope with more change on the relationship front yet. I’m still working through it, but I’ll let you know when I know.”
“I know you’ve got more thinking to do, and I think it's great that you are. Honestly, I do, too. It’s sensible. But I also know this conversation wasn’t super comfortable for you, so thanks for letting me in a little bit,” I say, and she leans over, resting her head against my shoulder. I hope she doesn’t think my concerns are sexist or stupid. I just have to be honest with what my worries are.
Deep down, I know she hasn’t changed. And I trust I know her well enough to know she won’t.