“Are you excited?” Bridget asked as they boarded the plane.

Turner shrugged. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the wedding, but excited wasn’t the right term.

Satisfied? Maybe.

Accomplished? As if Douglas's marriage had anything to do with him. Still, was it not a father’s duty to see his children married?

There was one thing that stirred the rusted strings of his heart, though. “I’m more excited about the prospect of becoming a grandfather.”

“Right, I get it. I would be ecstatic if Julian made me a grandmother. I adore babies.” She sighed. “If you were closer to Douglas, then maybe we could invite him and his wife for a visit. And when the baby comes, we could go visit them, and I could get my baby fix.”

It hadn’t been the first time Bridget had mentioned wanting to meet Douglas and his fiancée, she’d even mentioned getting together with Nancy and Peter. As if Turner had any desire to hang out with those two.

He wondered why she was interested in them, though.

Was she curious about the only other woman he’d had a meaningful relationship with? Not that in retrospect it had been particularly meaningful.

The first sexual relationship had a way of messing with people’s heads. The intimacy and intensity often got confused with love. Not that he’d loved Nancy, but he’d felt something.

He hadn’t been her first, but she’d been his, and he’d wanted to hang on to that sliver of a connection. When she’d left, he hadn’t been heartbroken, only marginally disappointed. And when she’d called a month later to tell him she was pregnant, he’d expected her to come back, but she’d already had someone else.

On the other hand, Bridget wasn’t like him, she enjoyed socializing, and maybe that was reason enough for her to want to meet Douglas and his side of the family.

Or, she was doing it for Turner, trying to get him and Douglas to spend more time together and act like they were a family.

“Are you disappointed that we are not meeting Douglas and Melanie before the rehearsal dinner?”

“A little. But maybe it’s better this way. It’s a hectic and stressful time for them. Meeting your girlfriend is probably the last thing they want to deal with now. Perhaps later, after the dust settles, so to speak.”

“I don’t mind Douglas and Melanie, but I don’t want anything to do with Nancy and Peter. It’s not that I have anything against them, but it’s not going to be comfortable for me, so why do it?”

“Did she leave you for him?”

Turner chuckled. Of course that was what Bridget would think. “No, it was someone else. There had been several boyfriends in between. She met Peter when Douglas was a baby.”

“I see.”

Interrupting, the stewardess leaned toward them with a professionally friendly smile. “May I offer you something to drink?”

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a Moscow Mule, would you?” Bridget asked.

Ever since Syssi had introduced her to the drink, she’d developed quite a taste for it. Except, even though they were flying first class, Turner doubted they offered a large variety of cocktails.

“Yes, we do. And for you, sir?”

“Shivas, no ice, please.”

“Great choice. I’ll be right back.” She went back to get their drinks.

“It’s quite comfortable here, for a commercial flight.” Bridget put emphasis on the commercial. “And yet it’s noisy enough to allow for a private conversation. Unless someone has superior hearing, that is.”

Turner glanced across the aisle. Was she implying that an interesting conversation was going on somewhere around them? Something she thought he needed to hear?

“Where?”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “Here, silly. Remember that item on your bucket list? This is your chance.”

As her meaning finally sank in, Turner felt his scalp heat up. “It was a joke. You’re not serious, are you?”

Even though the first class bathroom was larger than the minuscule one in coach, it was only partially obscured from the rest of the cabin by a curtain that was pulled back to one side.

Bridget waggled her brows and leaned to whisper in his ear. “I can try to cast a shroud around us so we can sneak into the bathroom together and no one would see.”

“You can do that?”

“I said I can try. It’s not much different than thralling, which I’m not very good at, but if I don’t try, I won’t know, right?”

His throat suddenly dry, Victor rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Right. Let’s wait for the drinks, though.”

“Are you scared?”

“No, not scared. But what if anyone hears us?”

“As I said, it’s very noisy in here.”

“What if anyone sees us coming out of the bathroom together?”

“We won’t. I’ll get out first, while you wait a couple of minutes before leaving. If I catch anyone watching, I’ll cast a tiny thrall to confuse them.”

The stewardess arrived with their drinks. “Enjoy,” she said cheerfully.

“Thank you.” Bridget took a sip. “Hmm, not bad for an airline drink.”

Turner threw back the shot of whiskey. “I’m going to do some reconnaissance.” He got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

Bridget snorted under her nose. “Be careful, my brave soldier.”

The good news was that the bathroom was decently sized, with a small counter he could imagine putting to good use. The bad news was that the stewardess’s station was right next to it. If Bridget couldn’t perform her mind tricks on the two women working the station, there was no way they could pull this off.

He told her as much when he came back.

“We’ll just wait until they start food service. Once the cart passes us, we’ll sneak in.”

He was all in for that, even if it meant missing dinner. “It’s a plan.”

Bridget arched a brow. “What, that’s it? I was expecting a mission plan with contingencies and backups.”

“For once I’m willing to live dangerously.”