Chapter 30
THIRTY
Wes
Lottie slowly turns in a circle in the middle of the cabin. “This is insane!”
I glance up from where I’m running through my pre-flight checklist. “So, you like it?”
She stops and looks at me like I’ve asked the stupidest question imaginable. “Wes, I obviously love it,” she says, gesturing around the plane, running her hand along the back of one of the oversized leather seats. “Wow. These are real leather.”
I look up from my checklist. “I would hope so.”
In less than two hours, we’ll be landing in Pine Ridge, a quiet mountain town tucked between towering peaks.
It’s the kind of place people travel across the country to visit, where newlyweds go when they’re stupidly in love.
I booked us a private chalet. It has a stone fireplace, a wraparound deck, a hot tub with a view of the mountains.
It will just be Lottie and me, for three whole days.
“I can’t believe this is your plane.”
“Our plane,” I wink.
Lottie’s smile widens as she drops into a leather seat, the chair practically swallowing her whole. Did I really just say that?
“Oh my God. This is heaven on earth.” She looks at me. “So, this is why rich people never want to fly commercial. I get it now.”
She runs her hands over the armrests and actually groans. “Wes, this is really fancy.” She sits up suddenly. “Are there pillows and blankets?”
“There are pillows.” I nod.
Her face lights up. “And blankets?”
“Yes.”
She presses a hand dramatically to her chest. “I knew it.”
I laugh. My wife is acting like I’ve taken her to Disneyland.
“What else do we get?” she asks.
“It’s a short flight, Lottie.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I shake my head and point toward one of the cabinets. “Help yourself.”
She immediately opens it. “Chocolate-covered almonds?” she gasps.
“You found the important stuff.”
“This keeps getting better. I love my life.”
I watch her rummage through the cabinet for another few seconds before returning to my checklist. It’s safer than staring at Lottie. I’m still recovering from this morning.
Lottie had wandered into the kitchen this morning wearing one of my hoodies and the tiniest pair of sleep shorts, stealing half the berries from my plate while I was drinking my coffee.
Then she smiled at me and the urge to pull her onto my lap and kiss her hit me so hard that I had to leave the room to stop myself from doing it.
“Are you ready to go to Pine Ridge, my wife?” I hold out a hand. “It’s time for takeoff.”
Lottie slips her hand in mine and lets me pull her into the cockpit. The feel of her hand in mine is enough to make every muscle in my body tense.
“Lead the way, husband.”
I settle Lottie into the copilot seat and walk her through the basics.
How the headset works, what not to touch, the emergency procedures she doesn’t even pretend to listen to.
She is far more interested in the experience than the safety briefing.
I secure her harness, making sure it’s fitted properly before settling into my own seat beside her.
A few radio calls later, we’re cleared for takeoff and a few minutes after that, the wheels leave the ground.
The city falls away beneath us, the ocean stretches endlessly toward the horizon and the mountains rise ahead.
By the time we reach cruising altitude, Lottie has already taken a camera roll of photos.
I can barely keep my eyes off her, watching her experience all of this for the first time. The steady hum of the engine fills the cabin as Lottie presses her face to the window. “Look at that!”
A smile tugs at my mouth. For someone who lives in British Columbia, it’s cute how she acts like she’s never seen a mountain before. The peaks stretch endlessly beneath us, still capped with snow despite the warm weather down below.
“It’s pretty,” I admit.
“Pretty? It’s gorgeous.” She tears her gaze away from the window long enough to shoot me a look. “Are you nuts?”
I lean back in my seat. “I said it was pretty.”
“Yeah, gorgeous and pretty are not the same thing.”
And now we’re arguing about the scenery.
I love the fire in her.
Outside, sunlight glints off a lake nestled between the mountains.
Inside, Lottie tucks one leg beneath her and keeps looking out the window like she’s trying to memorize every detail.
I keep watching her instead—the excitement on her face, the way her eyes light up, the smile she doesn’t seem to realize she’s wearing.
My gaze travels from her white linen blouse to her white linen shorts, down to the gold sandals that lace around her ankles.
Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and a pair of designer sunglasses hang from the neckline of her shirt.
She looks like she stepped straight out of one of those vacation ads designed to make people jealous of strangers on the internet.
The kind of woman men walk into walls over.
My eyes return to her face to find Lottie smirking at me. Caught.
“What?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
I don’t bother denying it. “I was just thinking that my wife is a ten out of ten.”
Lottie blushes. “You make it awfully hard not to like you, Wes Winters.” She sighs, looking back out the window. “I’m the luckiest fake wife in the world.”
Fake wife or not, that sentence does something to me. Unfortunately, so does she, and we’ve still got forty-five minutes left before we land.
She settles deeper into her seat. “Three whole days with no work. Nobody asking me about centrepieces, seating charts, floral budgets, or whether ivory is different than off-white.” A smile spreads across her face. “I’m excited.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “I haven’t done anything like this in years.”
“Taken a vacation?”
She sighs. “Not a real one. I’m always so busy with work.”
Lottie blames it on her job, but I know that between her clients and spending every free moment with her mom and dad, she’s been taking care of everyone but herself.
“You deserve one, Peach.”
Her smile softens. “I don’t know about that, but I’m definitely not going to argue.” She looks at the horizon. “Pretend or not, you’re getting pretty good at the husband thing.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. If Lottie only knew how often I’ve been having to remind myself that this marriage isn’t real.
Lottie spends the rest of the flight asking questions—about the mountains below, the town we’ll be landing in, the place we’ll be staying.
Somewhere along the way she discovers the binoculars I keep on board, which gets her even more excited.
By the time Pine Ridge finally comes into view, she’s practically bouncing in her seat.
“Is that it?”
I smile despite myself. “That’s it.”
Lottie’s nose practically presses against the glass as the town comes into focus, the lake below sparkling in the afternoon sun. “Oh, wow.”
A strange sense of satisfaction settles in my chest, like I personally built the place just for her. I direct the plane for the runway and a few minutes later, the wheels touch down.
And just like that, our honeymoon begins.