Chapter 39
39
Aidan
“ T hese were the only seats available when you booked us?”
I fold myself into the postage stamp-sized space. In the center of the plane. In the middle bank of seats. In the center of the row. And all I have running through my head is the song “Stuck in the Middle with You,” Bublé’s version, not the old one. We’re so tucked in here, changing seats with Lorna won’t win me any extra leg room.
“There were the two seats in first class.” She smirks at me.
This last-minute fare set me back a ridiculous amount of money, no way was a first-class upgrade even an option. I push myself back into my seat as far as I can, hating everything about this trip.
I check my phone for the millionth time this week, the millionth time today. Not that I really expect Lisbeth to call or text, not if I’ve been labeled a distraction. I have seven hours of absolutely no distractions to think about what happened. To think about Lis.
The past week had been so busy with shoots, editing the final product and getting things squared away for the week or so that I’ll be gone. I don’t intend for it to be any longer than that. I’ve started building my life—the life I want is here in the States.
I scrub my hands over my face, and check my phone one last time before turning it off for the flight. I try again to relax and get comfortable, but it’s just not going to happen. The flight attendants run through their bit and I really only pay attention when they get to the part about the booze available.
“You excited to go home?” Lorna tries to chat with me, but I’m tired. I’m cranky.
“Yeah. Sure.” I close my eyes, hoping she’ll stop. I just don’t want to talk.
“Your mum will be so happy to have you back.” She’s not getting it.
I tune her out for a bit as the plane taxis and takes off, counting the minutes for the pub in the sky to open and let me drown my sorrows.
It’s pretty obvious I’ve been ignoring Lorna when my eyes pop open at the formal offer of a beverage. I order whiskey for me and the three pregnant women in my row, not that I plan on sharing with them.
How does that even happen? How is it that I’m squished into this tiny space with three women growing tiny humans? Maybe that’s why it feels so damn crowded in here.
“Thanks,” I mumble as the four little bottles of liquor are distributed through the row, along with the drinks the ladies actually wanted. I’m not fooling anyone and we all know it. The stewardess, Marta, must feel for me, or something. The little bottles appear on my tray table as soon as Marta moves on to the next row.
As the third one empties down my throat, Lorna starts again, trying to draw me out of my fit.
“It’s been almost six months, Aidan. It’s time you’re home. Your family needs you. The life you have in Dublin is still there for you.”
“My life is in New York,” I huff out, disgusted with this whole thing. “What—what exactly did she say to you, Lorna? It’s killing me. I feel like I finally found what you and Michael had. I love her, fought so hard to get her to trust me, to give me a chance.”
I roll my head on the seat back to face her. I line the empty bottles up in a nice neat row across the top edge of my tray. “What did I do wrong? How did I screw this up?”
We’ve been friends for so long. So. Long. Surely Lorna can help me understand where I went wrong. Her cool hand picks up mine, stilling it from the nervous fiddling with the bottles. She holds it possessively on her belly, my nephew moving and stretching. The pressure calming both of us, lulling both the baby and me into a state of security.
Lorna’s melodic voice is quiet, soothing. She practically coos at me.
“She said she made a mistake. That she was wrong about your relationship. Said you’re not right for each other, and she was going to go home, spend time with her family as well, and focus on herself. That she needed time for her.”
Lies. Nothing but lies and they roll off her tongue effortlessly.
I pull my hand back and glare at her while keeping my voice even and low. “You’re full of shite.”
Lorna and the woman on the other side of me both gasp.
“Wh-what? I—no—that’s what she said.” Lorna’s face is turning red and her left eye is twitching. It’s her tell.
This girl and I lied our way out of all kinds of mischief growing up, I’ve seen that eye twitch more than I care to think of right now.
“Her family’s not in her life. Certainly, they’re not her ‘safe’ place. Not where she’d go to sort herself.” I turn toward her as much as I can in this tiny seat. “What really happened? Tell me the fucking truth, Lorna. The truth.”
Her deception is too much. The way she played Lis, the lies she wove, there’s no excuse for those. Having to sit next to her for the remainder of that flight while she cried and I seethed was uncomfortable for everyone around us.
All of that is enough to send me off the deep end. As soon as the plane lands, I pull the airline website up on my phone and try as I might, I can’t make a reservation on a flight back. I close down my phone and tuck it away as I approach the customs area. The anger vibrating inside me is barely contained as I stride through to the next available agent.
“Papers.”
I shove them across the counter.
“Can you help me? I tried to make a return reservation as soon as I deplaned and the system won’t let me. Do you know what that’s about?”
I need to get back to the States as soon as possible. I need to explain to Lis what happened—that Lorna lied.
To both of us.
“Sir, there seems to be an issue with your last visa. How long were you out of the country?” Fuck .
“Since March? But I started the process of renewing it—changing the designation before I left the States. I need to get back.”
He flips my passport closed, hands it back to me and waves me through.
“You’ll want to go to the state department and start working on that to get things sorted. Should be able to travel back in a couple months. Next.”
“What? No, I can’t wait. I have to go back soon—now.”
He yells, “Next” again, and I’m absolutely fucked.
Lorna sniffles as she takes her papers from the agent next to mine and moves slowly toward baggage claim to collect her case.
“Did you hear that? Did you, Lorna?” I’m doing everything not to draw attention, but I’m livid. “I’m stuck here, for months. Months until I can get back to Lis and try to fix this shit.”
I’m tired. My face is red and I am shaking all over and no matter how much control I want to have, my voice is rising. I’m not surprised to see a TSA agent striding toward us.
“Is there a problem here? Ma’am, do you need us to escort this man away? Is he threatening you?” He’s got a hand on his baton and one on his walkie, ready to call for backup.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” Thank Christ.
“About fucking time you start telling the truth.” I grumble it low. The last thing I need is to be detained in the airport.
“I’m sorry, Aidan. I’m so sorry.”
I’m done with her. Done. But I’m not a complete asshole. I grab both of our cases from the conveyor and head for the exit.
It’s pissing rain and my phone pings as I move off to the side of the door.
It’s my dad.
Traffic is snarled and he’s going to be a bit.
It’s the middle of the night in Beekman Hills, but I don’t care. I send the first of what will be a million texts to Lisbeth, hoping she’ll listen—that she’ll forgive this mess.