Chapter Two
Trevor
With one eye on my phone, I arrange our accommodations for the night. From the corner of the other… I watch her internal debate and cute, corresponding expressions as she mulls over every possible meaning and motive behind my words.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a crew member comes over the speaker — as I knew they would, thus, the arrangements I just confirmed — “we apologize for the delay and any inconvenience, but for your safety, we’re going to have to ask that you all exit the aircraft in an orderly fashion while we see to a mechanical issue.”
Lily’s head snaps my direction, her stunning jade eyes wide and packed with fright. “M-mechanical issue? That can’t be good.”
I shouldn’t laugh; she’s a novice flier and her fear is unmistakably sincere, but it’s already escaped. “Good? No, probably not. As bad as you’re imagining? Also a no.” I rise, cupping her elbow in prompt for her to do the same. “Come with me, Lily. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll see to both it, and your well-being, personally.”
Eyes in skeptic slants, she conducts a hurried scan, an assessment, before standing to move into the aisle, leaving room for me to join her. Confident I’ve “passed inspection,” I retrieve both our bags from the overhead then motion for her to lead us toward the exit… In an orderly fashion, of course.
“I’m so sorry for the trouble, Mister Kincade. Your wait shouldn’t be long, and rest assured, I’ll be right here to help with anything you need once we’re cleared to welcome you back on board.” The flight attendant, of whom Lily is less than fond, rightly so, gushes as we pass.
“Th— ”
“Are you insane?” Lily whirls around, seemingly unaffected by my stopped-short bump into her back — that I don’t correct, savoring the feel of her small, firm frame against mine — and shrieks. “Back on board? This same plane? Surely there’s some regulation, or fifty, against that!”
“I’ll check.” My subdued tone belies my amusement, and fails to come anywhere close to balancing out Lily’s hysterics. “I’ll check on all fifty, just as soon as we get settled.”
“No need to check anything,” she grumbles. “There’s no way in hell I’m setting so much as a pinky toe back on a plane they just announced is having mechanical issues. You must be outside of your damn mind.”
“All right, then. Since we’re clearly not getting back on this plane, perhaps we should hurry… to book a ticket on one that we are?” Again, it takes enormous will to speak without laughter.
“You can do whatever you want. Don’t worry about me,” she heaves, yet doesn’t skirt away from my touch, my hand fanned across the tiny dip in her back… just above her round, perky ass, as we walk up the tunnel. “Call me crazy, but don’t you think they should be a tad more specific as to what, exactly, ‘a mechanical issue’ entails?”
Not foolish enough to interrupt a woman on a tear, I let go my grin… but hold my tongue, maintaining the gentle pressure that’s steering her forward.
“There’s no such thing as too much information, you know, when in reference to large aircraft! A bike? No biggie. Worst-case scenario is what, a flat tire? Broken handlebar? A chain-coming-loose brush with death? But an airplane? Are we talkin’ the bulb for one of the warning lights burned out? One of the freakin’ wings may or may not have a screw loose and could fall off? Or is the grave technicality the fact that the seatbelt in Row B, seat four is stuck? Jesus!” She shakes her head while catching up to her breath, having worked herself up into an adorably sexy tizzy — all the while, still connected to the guide of my hand.
Once we’re back inside the airport, I escort her over to an empty seat in the waiting area and, perhaps too high-handedly, help her sit down. “Do you mind watching our bags while I see to a few things?”
“What? Yes, I mind! Believe it or not, I have a few things of my own to see to. I’ve got to be on the very next flight or I’ll miss my di—, uh, appointment.” She starts to get up, stopped by my hands on her shoulders.
“Lily, there won’t be any more flights heading out tonight. Not on TransWorld, anyway; I checked. The flight crew that’s here hits allowed hours worked in about—” I check my watch— “forty-five minutes. There’s no way they’ll be able to get a fresh, full crew here before morning. I’m afraid, my impatient little bird, your wings have been clipped until tomorrow. Now, stay here with our things while I get the rest of our evening sorted.”
“But, wait, wh—” she’s sputtering as I walk away.
****
“Finally! Where the heck have you been? Outside, trying to fix the plane yourself?” She pops up onto her feet, ready to scurry off… stopped short of her plans once more. “Let go,” her angry purr is joined by a glare aimed at her hand, which is trapped in mine. “Seriously, Trevor. I’ve got to try and book a flight, or at least get on the stand-by list.”
“There is no stand-by list, and the first flight tomorrow is already booked. For both of us.”
“How’d you book a flight for me? Why’d you book a flight for me? No, never mind, doesn’t matter. I can’t wait until tomorrow.” Ripping her hand from mine, she bolts for the counter… while I take a seat, lean back, and prepare to enjoy the show. “Ma’am?” I hear her politely whine, once she’s flitted her way around the long line of people… that she’s too frazzled to even realize are standing there.
As I watch, I replay every word she’s spoken since meeting her in my head, and come to my own realization. Her actions, most of them crowded by nerves, and the multiple, sudden shifts in her tone, mood… aren’t those of impatience, annoyance or cantankerousness. No, there’s something much bigger at play… eating at her… overshadowing the real Lily.
I rise and walk fast, pulling her away from the counter, and the front of the line she didn’t wait in. “Sweetheart, not only did you just cut in front of all those people, but you seem a bit… unhinged. Talk to me; tell me what you aren’t.”
“Aren’t what?”
“Aren’t telling me,” I chuckle.
“You and that sophisticated tongue of yours.” She rolls her eyes, and I imagine making them roll back in her head… using this sophisticated tongue of mine. “Wears me out. Thanks for all you’ve done, or tried to do, really, but I’m staying in this airport until I figure something out. I can’t wait until tomorrow, Trevor. So please, go about your night.”
“You have no choice but to wait until tomorrow, Lily. That’s not going to change; regardless of whether you choose, stubbornly so, to sleep here, stretched across a row of hard, uncomfortable chairs, or in the hotel room I’ve arranged. Please, take a deep breath and try to see reason. The earliest flight is at seven in the morning, and I swear to you, we’ll be on it.”
“It’s a two-hour flight, Trevor!” She settles between a whisper and screech, her beautiful body trembling, green eyes glossing over with a sheen of defeat. “Even if we leave right on time, that puts wheels on the ground at nine-thirty. Then there’s the whole roll as slowly as possibly to the gate thingy, and then we wait for everyone to, again, as slowly as possible, get their kids, crap and out of my way, run to baggage claim by maybe ten, only to wait some more for my bag to finally appear — ‘cause we both know it’ll be the last damn one thrown on the cart. And to round out the slow-motion circus, and only if I’m extremely lucky, I find a cab within another half hour.” Thankfully, she pauses long enough to drag in air, patting down her hair… somewhat askew with all the wild head-shaking and quite animated gesturing.
And then she’s back at it.
“Yeahhh, that’s not gonna work for me. If I’m not at th… where I need to be, by nine o’clock tomorrow morning… everything”— she’s shaking, gulping in more oxygen— “is over. Done. And I lose everything. Again.”
It undoes me, seeing her beyond distraught, so it’s without thought, particularly unmindful of boundaries, that I haul her against me and whisper upon her soft hair. “Lily, where is where you need to be, and what will be even worse? Let me help you, sweet girl. I’m quite capable of… making things happen. Tell me what it is you need, and I’ll make it so.”
She eyes her bag, and I sense her panic rising, approaching an overwhelming level. “I’ll just drive. It’s what, six hours? I can do that,” she spouts, though doing her best to hide reality. She’s scared.
I’m somewhat “scared” myself — that I won’t be able to insert a modicum of rationale in my response. “You’re going to drive through the night?” I jeer, not ask. “Six hours? While you’re upset? That’s your plan?” I manage to cage my scoff, but not my growl. “No.”
“No?” She parrots, hedging for affronted… accomplishing intrigued.
I slowly shake my head.
“No?”
I repeat the motion.
I’ve had eyes on her from the moment she stumbled onto the plane, and has continued to bobble, obviously also aboard an emotional roller-coaster, her way through the day. As long as there’s a beat to my heart, this woman is not navigating anywhere solo. Especially in the dark, route unknown, no closer to “settled” two flutes of champagne later.
Not happening.
“Well then, Mister Kincade, you’ve got another thing coming. I admit, the bossy man thing’s pretty hot, when it doesn’t include you telling me what I can and can’t do!”
“Lily,” my unavoidable laugh joins, “that’s what ‘bossy’ means, beautiful. And ‘man’ means that over my cold, dead body are you driving six hours, alone, at night, While. You’re. Upset!”
Done arguing, I grab our bags, and her hand… then drag the lot toward the exit.
“Trevor,” she hisses, digging in her heels to slow us down, which I ignore. “Trevor.” And still, I simply tighten my hold on her hand and quicken our steps. “Trevor!”
Now I stop dead in my tracks and whirl around to face her.
“What?” I ask, louder than is gentlemanly. When she doesn’t respond, her tiny mouth agape and green eyes wide, I take a moment to assess… then grin, surprisingly amused to realize that here I, Trevor Kincade, am — having a somewhat boisterous, wholly enlivening, argument with a gorgeous, all-but stranger in public. Just as quickly reaffirming my grim expression, I say, “You get my attention and fall silent? All right, then, allow me. What, Lily, could possibly warrant you hopping into a rental car at this hour? What plans can’t be rescheduled until later in the day tomorrow? And what will then be even worse? I can find out, you know. Very close to anything, about anyone, at any time. But I’d much rather you tell me yourself.”
“You can find things out? Private things? About people you hardly know?”
I give an easy nod, and easier smirk.
“You’re an ass. Sitting beside each another on a flight, well, what was supposed to be a flight, does not make us pals! Not sure why it matters to you so much, but I’m positive it’s none of your business. By the way, the bossy thing only works, marginally, when you’re being sexy bossy, not nosy bossy. Thought you should know. And with that, this is where I say goodbye, adieu, nice to meet you…” She reaches for her bag, only to try again, as I hold it up and away. “Are you kidding me?”
“Far from it.” I close the gap, and her mouth, with a gentle finger under her chin. “You’re in a strange town, it’s dark outside, and I’ve made myself clear. You will not be driving anywhere this evening. I can’t, in good conscience, let you leave, Lily. It’s just not in me; not the kind of man I am. But, again, if you tell me what’s so urgent, I will help.”
She fidgets from foot to foot and bites the corner of her lip. Simple, quite common in fact… yet it intrigues me in ways I may never fully comprehend. “It’s personal,” she mumbles.
“What isn’t? Tell. Me.”
“Oh, my God, Trevor, no! I realize you probably don’t get told ‘no’ very often, but surprise! I’m telling you, no, and I mean it.”
“Stubborn.” I grind my teeth and move closer. “Mouthy.” I weave my fingers through the hair at her temple, brushing it away from her neck. “Mysterious.” I dip my head to nuzzle said neck, inhaling her innocent essence. “Not a thing I don’t like, sweet Lily. If you trust me, I. Will. Fix. It.”
Unable to resist, she leans, just slightly, into me and answers in a breathy whisper. “I have to be in court.”
“I can work with that.” I grin against her soft skin, pebbled with goose bumps. “Any court will allow rescheduling if you have a valid excuse, and though I’m neither an attorney or judge, I believe being stranded by a delayed flight is indeed a valid excuse.”
“Not for this.” As I’m starting to suspect is habit, she frantically shakes that head of hers.
“Unless I’m dead, which, I’m obviously not, he’ll pitch a fit to proceed. And he’ll win. He always does. So, I have to make it on time. Plus, I really want to get it over with, before I lose my nerve.”
With a clenched jaw and a dangerous haze of red clouding my vision, I grate, “Who. Is. He?”
She sighs, and I feel the shift — she’s readying herself to surrender, to trust me with her burden. A labored breath later, she squeezes her eyes shut and lets it all come tumbling out, fast and borderline incoherent. “He is Ethan; my soon-to-be ex-husband. The final hearing on my divorce is in the morning, and if I’m not there, Ethan will make sure I lose everything. Every damn thing I’ve worked for my whole life. My savings, car… home! I fixed it up! The hovel, as he called it, is now the prettiest little house on the block, worth three times what we paid. I painted, converted the basement, turned the yard into a work of art. I even watched a TV show and taught myself how to build the cute little fence around the front! He couldn’t tell you what color the mailbox is! He only wants it because he knows how much it means to me; so that I can’t have it!”
“You’re married?” My head tilts itself.
“Well… typically, in all fifty states, in order to get divorced, you need to have been married first, yes.” I’m grateful for her sarcastic smile, staving off the tears, glistening with their approach. “So yes, technically, I’m married… but only by legal definition. Any of the words, gestures, and promises I’d use to define ‘marriage’ ceased to exist in our… arrangement… a long time ago.”
“What happened?”
“Trevor,” she groans, “I just told you, with way more intel than intended, which I’m blaming on panic-induced delirium. What more could you possibly want? A PowerPoint? With all the reasons I finally filed in a color-coded list?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous; you have no laptop with which to create a visual presentation… so, you’ll have to make do verbally,” I reply in my best attempt at dry humor, hoping to dissuade her from shutting me out again no sooner than I got her talking.
“Awful lot of discussing me, and none the wiser about you, Trevor Kincade. If that’s even your real name. Let me guess; FBI? CIA? Yeah…” Her mouth twists with amusement. “I can see it; either that, or the guy they send in to berate people to damn death until they talk? Oh, my God, I’ve got it! The IRS! That’s it; I’m right, aren’t I?”
I laugh, entirely, not something I do often. “No. To all three.” She rolls her hand, urging me to continue. “I…” I rub my jaw. “The short answer? I make money; a nice amount of it. Far more than I spend.”
“You don’t have to be so specific.” Her faint giggle’s true volume lay within her expression.
“Oh, Lily,” I chuckle once more. “You are a delight. An uncensored, motiveless delight.”
Further solidifying that fact, she curtsies. Precious.
“Getting back on course, sweetheart, you were saying? Before the bit about the FBI.”
“So much for hoping you forgot,” she sighs, her shoulders and spirit sagging. “Ethan must’ve thought he heard me say, somewhere in our vows, that is was okay to acquaint himself with anyone in a skirt, or dress. Yoga pants. Easily removed jeans. Booty shorts. Any shorts.”
“I think I’ve got it.”
“Meanwhile, I was busy finishing my Masters, keeping our home pristine, his dinners hot and on the table right when he walked through the door, and doing all the bookkeeping for his business, while also always making time to acquaint myself with only him! I own shirts, and dresses, and… I’m actually quite fond of yoga pants! Didn’t matter. One day, I clicked the wrong folder on his home computer, you know, to do his bookkeeping for him… and something made me pause, take a gander. He was paying rent on a plush condo for his favorite acquaintance”— she pauses to breath, and squelch a sob— “with our money. Anyway, now he’s claiming I didn’t bring anything to the marriage, so I should leave with nothing. That’s why I have to be there. To defend myself. If not, he’ll win again, and along with my trust, dignity, and years of wasted time, he’ll get my home and every last penny too.”
Needing to process, plan, plot — either this Ethan’s death and/or irreversible maiming, a real toss-up — I remain silent a few minutes too long, only causing her more anxiety, I realize, upon hearing the tremor that founds her next whisper.
“Now you know, and I feel like a fool all over again. It was nice meeting you, Trevor. The end? Eh, not so much, but I’ll live. And, I really do have to go.”
“You most certainly do,” I bite, though not at her, and pull out my cell to angrily punch ‘Call’ to summon Maxwell.