Without a Hitch(102)

“Sleep, lover. We have plenty of time to talk later.”

His head barely moves, but I know he’s asleep when his grip on my hand loosens. I hold tighter as fear creeps into my heart.

LOCHLAN STIRS with his head in my lap, but only to wrap his arms tighter around my legs like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. My concern for him outweighs the uncertainty of our non-relationship. I mindlessly run my fingers through his hair, and he moans softly.

Spread out on a leather couch in the center of the cabin, he’s barely moved since we changed planes in New York. Moving him from the tiny five-person vessel that transported us to New York was easy. Rousing him from a deep sleep after landing was nearly impossible and required the help of the pilot and grounds crew.

I had used the fifteen-minute layover to text his sister. She confirmed that he was, in fact, hungover and seriously sleep-deprived, but I can’t shake the unease of it being something more.

To my left are the clothes he’d apparently traveled to Vermont in. His baby trackies and Calm AF

T-shirt. I try not to read too much into that. After all, I word vomited my feelings but cut him off before he could reply. Truthfully, I wasn’t prepared for him to tell me we’ll always have an expiration date. I probably never will be, so I’ll live in this fantasy world for as long as I can.

Allie approaches with Lochlan’s tuxedo jacket on a hanger. Luckily, she was able to press it for us and ensure he’ll be presentable when we land. Our timeline is tight, and we’ll already be arriving late, so I’m doing everything I can to save time.

“We’ll be landing soon. Can I get you anything else?” she whispers, then carefully places Lochlan’s jacket on a hook beside me.

“No, I think we’re fine. Thank you. I need to change though. Do I have enough time?”

She glances up at the clock on the wall next to the cockpit and nods. “If you hurry.”

It’s no small feat to extract myself from Lochlan. He’s an octopus. Every time I get one arm removed, the other clamps down in its place like a weird game of tag. Finally, I shift him onto his side. The low groan that escapes raises my blood pressure to uncomfortable levels, but I ease out of his grip and hurry to the small room at the back of the plane where Allie hung my dress.

It takes me less than ten minutes to change and do a quick refresh of my makeup. The perks of being a bridesmaid baddie are all the lovely dresses I’m acquiring, but I chose the beautiful lavender dress I’d worn in New York. I have no idea if Lochlan will remember it, but it felt symbolic for me to wear it tonight.

I take one last glimpse in the mirror, and when I’m satisfied, I shake my arms like I can force all the nervous energy to fly from my fingertips. Tonight is important for Lochlan and for Bryer-Blaine.

I’ll play my part. I’ll make sure everything goes off without a hitch, and then I’ll pray to the goddess of love that my heart will survive whatever comes next.





C HAPTE R 39

TILLY

A s soon as the door of the plane opens, everything moves at warp speed. Lochlan woke just before we touched down, and while he isn’t a hundred percent, his mind seems a little clearer.

That’s something, at least.

“Are you still having pain in your side?” I ask as we descend the stairs.

“I think I’m off Skittles for life,” he calls over his shoulder.

The wind picks up, making it hard to hear, so I lean in closer, inhaling his unique scent. Oranges and ocean breezes. My new aphrodisiac.

“I’m fairly certain my body has become allergic since I ate my weight in them in the tub a few days ago.”

My mouth opens, then closes again. There’s no way I heard him correctly. I tug on his hand to ask when a flash of golden-brown hair and a shimmering gold dress catch my eye. Lochlan’s sister runs toward us as fast as her four-inch heels can carry her. Honestly, her speed in those shoes is impressive.

“Nova?” Lochlan uses his fingertips to rub his eyes like she’s a mirage.

“Come on, Lochness. We’ve got to hurry.” She grabs for his free hand and, with shocking strength, drags both of us toward a waiting car.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as she reaches the black limo and opens the door before the driver has even rounded the car.

Nova turns and does a double take as she examines Lochlan for the first time. “Oh my God, are you sick?”

“No.” He swats her away and ushers her into the car at the same time as I say, “Yes, he is.”

Glower is an expression Lochlan has perfected. If you look up glower in the dictionary, you will see a picture of Lochlan’s face as he uses the power of intimidation to force us into the vehicle. Once we’re all seated, he undoes the buttons of his vest and absently rubs his side.

“You are sick,” Nova gasps, pointing at his vest. I’m thankful for the backup, but there’s something in Nova’s expression that tells me Lochlan’s flu isn’t the only thing I need to be worrying about.

“What’s going on, Nova? Why is the driver breaking every speed limit right now?”

My skin breaks out in goosebumps. My body is reacting before my mind is even aware of the danger.

“It’s Christine,” she says nervously. Her pinkie finger lands in her mouth as she attacks the cuticles and avoids Lochlan.