Not Pretending Anymore(84)
What if things got worse and someday it affected my job, and I couldn’t even provide for us?
I stared at the cabin door. I was sitting in row seven, and people were still boarding the plane. The seat next to me hadn’t even been filled yet. If I wanted to, I could grab my bag from the overhead compartment and bolt out the door. Molly had no idea I was coming, so it wasn’t like she’d be disappointed.
Beads of sweat trickled down the back of my neck even though the AC was blowing right on me. I continued to watch passengers pass, inwardly freaking out as the plane filled up and my time to escape ticked away. At one point, a gigantic man stopped at my row of seats. He had to be at least six foot six and easily three-hundred pounds of muscle.
He lifted a suitcase into the overhead compartment and stepped into the empty aisle seat next to me. Buckling, he apologized. “Sorry if I encroach, man. I usually try to fly first class for the wider seats, but they didn’t have any open.”
“No problem.”
I kept staring at the cabin door.
“Nervous flier?” he asked.
I guess the guy noticed the anxiety wafting from every one of my pores. I let out an exasperated sigh. “Not usually.”
“Well, the weather’s supposed to be good today. Should be a smooth flight. Try not to stress.”
I nodded.
But a minute later, my leg started to bop up and down. The gap between people boarding began to space out. We’re almost done. Any minute now, that damn door was going to slam closed. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood, then abruptly sat back down and raked my hands through my hair.
“You sure you’re alright?” my seatmate asked. “You’re making me a little nervous the way you’re acting.”
Shit . I guess I’d be freaked out watching someone act sketchy on a plane these days, too. “Sorry. Don’t mean to worry you. I just…I’m going to see someone, and I’m not sure I’m making the right decision.”
The tree trunk of a man actually looked a little relieved. He nodded. “Must be a woman?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, that explains why you look terrified.” He smiled. “You look like you might shit your pants. When I was six years old, my old man and my mom got into an argument. My old man was a big dude. He made me look tiny. He’d fucked up yet again—lost half his paycheck gambling, and Mom chased him out of the house. I’d been sitting out front on the porch, and he took the seat next to me and cracked open a beer. To this day, I’ve never forgotten what he said.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Son, when you find a woman who scares the living hell out of you, marry her.’” The man chuckled. “My wife is five foot nothing, and I’m terrified of that little lady. Sometimes being scared of a woman can turn out to be the best thing in your life.”
I smiled halfheartedly. “Thanks.”
He nodded.
A few seconds later, the urge to flee felt like it was crushing my chest. I turned to my seatmate.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“What’s up?”
“Don’t let me get off this plane.”
He arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
I blew out a deep breath. “Absolutely.”
Tree Trunk folded his arms across his chest and stretched his thick legs out to block my passage. “You got it.”
***
I decided to check into a hotel. It felt weird while I was in Chicago, but I didn’t want Molly to feel pressured by me staying with her. If we had our talk and she told me she didn’t want to be with me, what would happen? I’d say goodnight and go to sleep in the room next to hers? That felt wrong. So I’d checked into a Hampton Inn around the corner from the hospital where she worked. Since it was late, I decided to try to get a good night’s sleep and wait until tomorrow to make contact. I wasn’t sure if she was working or not, so I thought I’d call around the time she normally got off.
But get a good night’s sleep turned out to be an unrealistic expectation. Instead, I tossed and turned all night, still unsure if I was doing the right thing. I wanted the best for Molly, and in the end, that might not be me.
The morning light didn’t bring much clarity either. I went downstairs to the free breakfast at 6AM for some much-needed coffee. After sufficiently caffeinating, I stared down at my phone, trying to decide what to text to her. In the end, I went with simple.
Declan: Hey. Are you just getting off work? I was hoping we could talk.
I felt like I was in middle school as I watched the message go from Sent to Received to Read . My pulse raced, and I started to perspire again. At least I probably wouldn’t have to wait very long. Molly was usually pretty fast at responding to texts.
But a half hour later, she hadn’t written back. Rather than sit around and wait for my phone to chime, I hopped in the shower and started to get ready for work—which was a whole different can of worms. My boss, of course, knew I was coming back to Chicago. Two days ago, I’d told him I wanted to check in on how things were turning out before deciding whether or not to stay. He’d been great about the last-minute change. But he’d left it up to me to let Julia know, and I hadn’t done that yet. Obviously, I had some loose ends to deal with there, too.
By eight forty-five, it was time to leave for the office, and I still hadn’t heard from Molly. I knew she’d read my text, so I assumed maybe she was stuck in a delivery or something. I hated to leave for work without talking to her, but the ball was in her court now.