Chapter Twenty
Rock bottom, apparently, came with pretzels.
Not close enough to turn back. Not close enough to arrive. Just… stuck. Which felt about right.
The seatbelt sign had blinked off twenty minutes ago, and the cabin had settled into long-haul mode.
Headphones slipped on. Neck pillows inflated.
Someone three rows back was already snoring like a chainsaw.
A woman across the aisle applied moisturizer like she’d decided now was the perfect time for a spa routine.
Nate envied all of them. Their minds were shutting down for the night.
His was just getting started. The adrenaline that had powered him through the airport, through security, through boarding had finally drained out of his system sometime during takeoff.
What remained was a sour exhaustion that made his limbs feel like concrete.
Sleep was a distant fantasy. His brain had plans. Namely: replaying every moment with Ella. No, Allegra von Wildern. Over and over again.
Nate shifted in the narrow seat and dragged his phone out of his pocket before he could talk himself out of it.
Bad idea.
Absolutely a bad idea.
He opened the Photos app anyway. Tap. The Ferris wheel selfie appeared. He and Allegra squeezed together inside the tiny glass capsule, her arm extended to fit them both in the frame. Her grin stretched wide, sunlight catching in her hair like she’d bottled summer and worn it as an accessory.
His own expression hovered somewhere between joy and disbelief. Like he’d been handed something precious and was waiting for someone to tackle him and demand it back.
Nate remembered exactly when she’d taken it: right after the capsule had lurched at the top, right after she’d jabbed him in the ribs.
His thumb traced the edge of the screen, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. How did you fuck this up so badly? He should have told her. Should have just said it, instead of letting her find out like that. Because now? Now any chance they might have had was gone.
Not that there’d ever really been one.
A bitter grunt clawed its way up his throat. The businessman in the aisle seat glanced over, eyebrows raised in mild concern, then turned back to his movie. Good call, buddy. Nothing to see here. Just a grown man having an existential crisis.
But that was the truth, wasn’t it?
He’d never stood a chance.
Allegra was a princess. With a capital P. Women like her dated dukes and ambassadors. Men with family crests and Ivy League degrees. Pasts so polished they gleamed. Not guys who’d spent years on camera, fucking for a paycheck.
Nate stretched the image until her face filled the display. God, that smile. It had wrecked him from day one. He’d adored it. Worshipped it, if he was being honest. Somewhere beneath the bile and self-loathing roiling in his chest, he still did.
And yet…
What the hell had any of it been?
The kiss on the boat had felt real. Like the world had blinked out for a second and it was just them.
Last night had felt real too. When they’d ended up tangled together on that stupidly small mattress, her head on his shoulder like it belonged there.
Her breath tickling the side of his neck.
He’d lain there staring at the ceiling, hardly daring to breathe, convinced that if he shifted even an inch she’d disappear.
Nate zoomed in until only her eyes remained, searching for a clue he might have missed.
Something to help make sense of it. No answers.
Just Allegra—impossibly bright, mocking him in pixels.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket and slumped lower in his seat until his knees wedged against the plastic tray table.
The call button glowed on the armrest. He stared at it for a second, then jabbed it. A flight attendant appeared a moment later, polite smile locked in place.
“Can I get you something”
“Vodka,” Nate said.
“Mixer?”
He shook his head.
“Just vodka.”
She returned with the tiny bottle and set it in his palm. Nate twisted the cap off and tipped it back, swallowing a long, burning mouthful. The alcohol scorched its way down his throat and settled warm in his stomach.
He waited. For relief, for numbness, for something.
Nothing came.
Nothing helped.