Chapter 28 #2
A soft smile flickers across her face. “People usually come back here for a snack,” she replies, offering me a granola bar. “Eat. It might help the whole anxious-pacing thing you’ve got going on.”
The food churns in my stomach, but I do as I’m told and eat the snack and sip on the ginger ale she pours. After a few deep breaths, the anxiety mellows to a soft trickle rather than a downpour, giving me the courage to return to my seat.
Sofía scans me, nibbling on her lower lip. The napkin in her hand is folded into a tiny triangle, and she undoes her work before starting again.
“Did you want to go over the plan for when we get back?”
My pulse stops. “The plan?”
Does she mean our deal?
“For the premiere. The editing timelines. Logistics. Tickets.”
Oh. This isn’t about us at all. I try to disguise my disappointment, and my flight attendant friend from the galley appears beside us.
“Can I get you two anything?” Janet asks, quirking a brow at me. I shake my head frantically when Sofía’s turned away, and the flight attendant grins. “How about some champagne for you and your…fiancé?”
I witness the panic and horror that flies across Sofía’s face, and I want to melt into the fake-leather seat.
We’re not even dating, I almost blurt out. I want to, but I don’t know where she stands. But we are most definitely not engaged.
Fourteen hours over the Pacific Ocean is hardly enough time to muster the courage to tell her I’d like something more than a few weeks of playing pretend. If we get past that, it would take me a long time to find the strength to propose.
I want that life with her, though. One where I end up on one knee. A version where she says yes. A wedding that rivals the one in Ella Enchanted, her favorite movie, even if falling in love in a day is unrealistic to her.
Truthfully, I’ve been falling for her since the day we met at RogueWave. She walked through the door, confident and beautiful. Even if this leads nowhere, it’s been an honor to love her, and I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life.
Sofía recovers faster than I do. “That would be lovely,” she says, her cheeks a deep red, even in the low cabin light.
Janet returns with two flutes of bubbling champagne, and I tip the rim toward Sofía. Our glasses clink, but her gaze never leaves mine.
“To new beginnings,” I murmur, embedding every hope I have into the words.
She murmurs the same, her lips parting to say more, but she shakes her head, retrieving her laptop from her bag. We work for a few hours—her finalizing the email blast for tickets while I edit underwater footage—before she grows tired, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.
I have to rouse her when we land in Los Angeles, groggy from sleep. There’s no exchanging of words, only uncomfortable glances as we deboard and move through customs. By the time we’ve made it to baggage claim, I am a mess of nerves, the warm courage from the champagne having fizzled away.
Molly and Doug chatter away, either oblivious or uncaring to the intense, awkward energy between us, and I collect Sofía’s bag when it appears on the carousel, dropping it in front of her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, moving the handle up and down while we wait for the remaining luggage.
I’m going to be sick.
“We’re gonna get going,” Molly says as Doug drags their bags toward the exit. “We’ll chat about expense reports next week.”
She gives me a bewildered look when I offer a thumbs-up, but I’m tracking my bag as it inches closer. Once it arrives, it’s time.
Doug and Molly disappear, waving goodbye to Sofía, who is as uncomfortable as I am. I drag my duffel onto the ground, and then I face Sofía, my heart clawing its way up my throat.
“So, this is it…” she says, fiddling with her purse strap. “I, uh, I had fun. This doesn’t have to change anything between us.”
My heartbeat drowns out the background noise, the rest of the world fading away until it’s nothing but her and me. I reach out to grab her hand, pausing to give her the opportunity to pull away.
She doesn’t. I wrangle the hope fighting to break free.
“What if I want it to?” I ask. “What if I want things to change? What if I don’t want what happened in Australia to stay there?”
I try to read every emotion flying across her face. Surprise. Confusion. Concern. Her fingers twitch in mine, and then she pulls her hand away, clutching it to her chest.
“I—What?” She gawks at me. “B-but…”
This is it. My one shot. I lay it all out for her.
I’d rather offer her everything and risk the heartbreak than hold back and lose the opportunity.
If you like the girl, you tell the girl.
“Come home with me, Sofía,” I plead, searching her face as my heart pounds in my ears. “Screw what we said. I don’t want this to end. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Her bag goes slack in her hand as her face pales to a sickly shade.
“Jett, I—” she sputters out, tripping over her words. Dread fills my stomach, that sliver of hope diminishing by the second.
I offer her time to formulate her words, understanding I sprang this on her. She expected an ending, and I’m asking for a new beginning—with her.
“I—” The words I love you almost leave my lips, but I shove them back. “You’re right here,” I tell her, flattening my palm over my heart.
I’ve never been one for grand declarations of love.
Words are empty without action. I love her enough to alter my sleep schedule so I don’t wake her at night; to memorize her coffee order and favorite movie; to offer aloe vera after she sunburns, even if she spends the whole day declaring she doesn’t burn.
Each breath is harder than the last, and after two minutes, I take her silence as an answer.
Sofía has spent far too much time in her life bending to accommodate other people’s emotions. I won’t force her to do the same for me. She doesn’t reciprocate, and I respect that. I’d rather have her as a friend than nothing at all.
I love her enough to walk away. She doesn’t share the same dreams as me, and there’s no blame in that. Sadness, yes. But I’d rather love with the risk of getting hurt than never love at all.
Her lips part, but I save her from formulating a response.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, the corner of my lips ticking up. It’s not quite a full smile, but it’s all I can offer her right now. I don’t want her to carry any guilt about this. “I don’t want to make it weird. Friends?”
Still no response. Only shocked, parted lips and a rapid intake of breath.
Unable to take any more heartache, I grab my bag.
“You’re rehired,” I murmur, my heart shattering into a million pieces. “I’ll see you at the premiere in a few weeks. Email me if you need anything for work.”
Then I walk out of the airport without glancing back, leaving what’s left of my heart behind, shattered on the airport floor.