Chapter Two #3
“…knight in shining armor is not a realistic option. But there’s a part of me that wants a huge, amazing romance.
I want passion. I want to be swept off my feet.
I want an earthquake, or a…I don’t know, a huge whirlwind…
something exciting. Sometimes I feel as if there’s this whole new, thrilling life waiting for me out there, and if I can just—”
—
“Excuse me, miss?”
“What?” I look up dazedly. “What is it?” The air hostess with the French plait is smiling down at me.
“We’ve landed.”
“We’ve landed?”
How can we have landed? I look around—and glimpse the airport terminal through the window. The plane’s still. We’re on the ground.
I feel like Dorothy. A second ago I was swirling around in Oz, clicking my heels together, and now that I’ve woken up, all is flat and quiet and normal again.
“We aren’t bumping anymore,” I say stupidly.
“We stopped bumping quite a while ago,” says the American man.
“We’re…we’re not going to die.”
“We’re not going to die,” he agrees.
I look at him as though for the first time—and suddenly it hits me. I’ve been blabbering nonstop this whole time to a complete stranger. God alone knows what I’ve been saying.
I want to get off this plane right now. “I’m sorry,” I say awkwardly. “You should have stopped me.”
“That would have been a little difficult.” There’s a tiny smile at his lips. “You were on a bit of a roll.”
“I’m so embarrassed!” I try to smile, but I can’t even look this guy in the eye. I mean, I told him about my knickers. I told him about my G spot. My whole face is hot with mortification.
“Don’t worry about it. We were all stressed-out. That was some flight.” He hesitates. “Will you be OK getting back home?”
“Yes!” My voice is shrill. “I’ll be fine, thanks!” I scrabble hurriedly under the seat for my briefcase. I have to get out of here. Now.
“You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Fine! Thanks very much.” I undo my seat belt and get to my feet, stumbling a little. “I hope you have a nice visit.”
“Thanks.” He smiles up at me, and I nod back, then walk away as quickly as I can.
—
As I step onto the solid ground of the terminal, the relief hits me again. I’m alive. I’m safe. Slowly, trying to keep control of myself, I make my way along the carpeted corridors toward Arrivals. I feel sweaty, my hair’s all over the place, and my head is starting to throb.
The airport seems so bright and calm after the intense atmosphere of the plane. The ground seems so firm. I sit quietly on a plastic chair for a while, trying to get myself together, but as I stand up at last, I still feel dazed. I walk through Customs in a blur, hardly able to believe I’m here.
“Emma!” I hear someone calling as I come out of Arrivals, but I don’t look up. There are loads of Emmas in this world.
“Emma! Over here!”
I raise my head in disbelief. Is that…
No. It can’t be, it can’t—
It’s Connor.
He looks heartbreakingly handsome. His skin has that Scandinavian tan, and his eyes are bluer than ever, and he’s running toward me. This makes no sense. What’s he doing here? As we reach each other, he grabs me and pulls me tight to his chest.
“Thank God,” he says huskily. “Thank God. Are you OK?”
“Connor, what—what are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d surprise you. When I got here, they told me the plane had hit turbulence.” He closes his eyes briefly. “Emma, I watched your plane land. They sent an ambulance straight out to it. Then you didn’t appear. I thought…” He swallows hard. “I don’t know exactly what I thought.”
“I’m fine. I was just trying to get myself together. Oh, God, Connor, it was terrifying.” My voice is suddenly all shaky, which is ridiculous, because I’m perfectly safe now. “At one point I honestly thought I was going to die.”
—
“When you didn’t come through the barrier…” Connor breaks off and looks at me silently for a few seconds. “I think I realized for the first time quite how deeply I feel about you.”
“Really?” I falter.
“Emma, I think we should…”
Get married? My heart jumps in fear. Oh, my God. He’s going to ask me to marry him, right here in the airport. What am I going to say? I’m not ready to get married. But if I say no, he’ll stalk off in a huff. Shit. OK. What I’ll say is, Gosh, Connor, I need a little time to…
“…move in together,” he finishes.
Well, of course. Obviously he wasn’t going to ask me to marry him.
“What do you think?” He strokes my hair gently.
“Erm…” I rub my face, playing for time, unable to think straight. Move in with Connor. It kind of makes sense.
All at once, some of the things I said on the plane slide into my head. Something about my never having been properly in love. Something about Connor’s not understanding me properly.
But then…that was just drivel, wasn’t it? I mean, I thought I was about to die. I wasn’t exactly at my most lucid.
“Connor, what about your big meeting?” I say, suddenly recalling.
“I canceled it.”
“You canceled it?” I stare at him. “For me?”
I feel really wobbly now. My legs are barely holding me up. I don’t know if it’s the aftermath of the plane journey, or love.
Oh, God, just look at him. He’s tall and he’s handsome, and he canceled a big meeting, and now he wants to rescue me.
It’s love. It has to be love.
“I’d love to move in with you, Connor,” I whisper, and, to my utter astonishment, burst into tears.