His Royal Highness(80)
He stares at them almost as if they’re real. In fact, he stares so long, unflinching, that I feel compelled to tell him they were twenty-five cents apiece. Don’t get excited.
Eventually, he reaches for the emerald one. “Think it’ll fit me?”
He tries it on his ring finger, but it doesn’t make it past his knuckle. He tries his pinky next and even that’s a stretch. He leaves it on then nods for me to don mine.
It’s a little tight, but I push it onto my ring finger.
Derek is visibly impressed. “Aren’t these meant for kids? How does that fit you?”
I shrug. “I have small hands.”
“What’s your ring size?”
“Not sure. Now listen, when they ask us about our wedding, you need to act really enthusiastic.”
Spoiler: he doesn’t. Later, after I gush to the flight attendant about our recent nuptials and honeymoon in the Big Apple, Derek looks up from his laptop and says, deadpan, “I don’t even know this woman.”
When the attendant walks away, I swat him with the safety trifold I wrench from my seatback pocket.
“Are you serious? We could have gotten free snacks!”
He’s smirking. Clearly, he thinks he’s funny. I ignore him, push up on my knees, and survey the aisle for the flight attendant. “Okay now, when she comes back, I need you to feign amnesia. Tell her you remember me now and—”
My sentence cuts off when Derek sighs and holds up his hand. A new flight attendant swoops down on us within seconds. I nearly shriek. One second, the aisle’s empty. The next, she’s there—like a hawk.
“Yes, sir? How can I help you?”
She’s all smiles and I think, Wow. No more economy slop for me. Only first-class luxury from here on out.
“I think my wife would like to order something.”
He’s joking and yet my body thrums with energy hearing him refer to me that way.
“Can I ask, what’s the fanciest thing you have to eat on this flight?” I lean over, halfway covering Derek’s lap. “Like if Bill Gates were here, what would he eat?”
Her brows knit together. “Oh, um…we serve Beluga caviar—”
I do a poor job of quelling a gag. Then I aim a careful smile her way.
“How about cake?” I suggest.
“Cake?” She’s confused. “We have a flourless torte with a layer of chocolate mousse and whipped cream.”
“Yes.” I snap my fingers. Torte is just fancy cake. “That. I want that. Please.”
It’s 9:45 AM, mind you. When Derek points this out to me, I ignore him.
“Also, congratulations on your first flight with us, Ms. Atwood,” the flight attendant says with a wide smile. “The cake is a gift from all of us here in first class.”
Derek doesn’t even look in my direction as she walks away. He doesn’t need to. My smirk has a 50-foot radius. I have a gloating aura that permeates the air between us. While I wait for my delicacy to be served to me on a gilded tray, I crack open my paperback. He types on his laptop. When they arrive with the cake, he has no choice but to help hand it over to me. When our eyes lock, I can tell he’s fighting amusement. With every lick of that chocolate torte lathered with mousse and dripping with whipped cream, he tries hard to focus on his work.
I only let him have two bites.
The rest is mine. I earned it.
When we land, Derek tells me Cal wants us to meet him for a late lunch.
“Are you up for it or do you want me to drop you off?” he asks.
“No, let’s go.”
I have things to discuss with the two of them.
I was productive on the flight home. After I finished my cake, I used a cocktail napkin slightly smeared with whipped cream to map out my five-year plan. The one Derek is waiting for.
It reads as follows:
Have a kickass job
Married ??
Start a family ?!
Save lots of $$$ for retirement (okay…at least one $)
On that ^ note…learn the difference between a 401k and a SEP-IRA. Same thing??
“No, they aren’t,” Derek said casually during the flight.
“What?! Stop! This is private.” I turned my shoulder to block him from reading the rest of the list.
Floss regularly!
Build a better relationship with my parents
Learn how to change a tire
At lunch, I decide it’s best not to show Derek and Cal the actual list, but Derek insists on seeing it.
“Hand it over.”
I hold it just out of his reach. “No. Really, it’s—”
Yank.
My face floods with color as he scans it.
“You scratched out ‘married’ and ‘start a family’. Did you change your mind about those things? If so, you better take that ring off.”
I clutch my pretend diamond to my chest.
“No. I just didn’t want you to freak out.”
Cal sits quietly at the head of the table, wearing a little smirk as he watches us.
“I’m more concerned with the fact that you don’t know to change a tire,” Derek says. Typical dude.
I snatch the napkin back out of his hand. “Right, well, I don’t even have a car, so it doesn’t really matter. Anyway, let’s stay on task.”