she caught the look of surprise written across my face.
“Cheri asked to switch with me. Her kid got sick,” she explained, almost apologetically. “I swear it wasn’t me this time.”
I nodded; I could only take her word for it. I passed both Derek and Lara and rolled my luggage to the rear of the plane for storage in its designated area.
Lara hopped up from her seat and practically skipped down the center aisle. “Looks like clear skies across the East Coast today,” she said conversationally. “No chance of us getting stranded in Philadelphia again.”
I smiled tightly while I stored my luggage. “That’s good.”
“I heard a good joke the other day. What do you call when you’re sick of being in the airport?” She didn’t wait for my response before delivering the punchline: “Terminal illness,” she grinned.
I could only muster a weak laugh. “Good one.”
The smile and lightness dropped from Lara’s features, but she kept her eyes trained on me. “Hey, Derek,” she called over her shoulder. “Do you want to be purser today?”
At the front of the plane, my other colleague’s features lit up at the offer. “For real?”
Lara’s stare never left my face. “Sure. It looks like a relatively empty flight this morning. You might as well get in some practice.”
Most pursers I knew—with the exception of Kent—clung desperately to their seniority benefits. I’d never heard of anyone voluntarily giving up First Class privileges.
“Thanks!” Derek chirped in earnest. “I’m gonna rehearse right now. I’ve been practicing a funny version at home.”
I couldn’t keep my curiosity contained for long. “That was nice of you,” I remarked.
“I don’t really feel like dealing with Business Class today,” she explained. “Besides,” she said, her penetrating eyes intense and unblinking, “it’ll give us a chance to work together like old times.”
Like old times. I could practically feel my blood pressure spike. When Lara and I had worked Economy together, months ago, I’d had my hand up her navy blue pencil skirt at every opportunity.
“Sure, I managed to choke out. “Old times.”
Beverage service went by quickly with Lara and I standing to the front and back of the beverage cart. We’d worked together for a solid month before, and we fell into a familiar rhythm working multiple rows at a time. We worked well together, but I still felt on edge around her.
After we served sodas and snacks in Economy, I stood in the rear galley, attempting to slide the beverage cart back into its storage container.
“Hey,” Lara called to me.
I ignored her for the moment in favor of my task. The stupid latch refused to reconnect. I repeatedly slammed the metal cart into the compartment where it typically remained when not in use, but it wasn’t cooperating with me.
“Alice. Can you stop for a second?”
I was exhausted. The past two weeks had been a nonstop rollercoaster of emotions. And now this piece of junk refused to go back to where it belonged. “What?” I practically bit out.
Lara held up her hands like a shield. “I want to help.”
I gestured to the beverage cart and the storage cubby it refused to latch into. “Go ahead. Maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”
“I don’t mean that,” she corrected. “I saw Gemma on Tuesday on a layover in Dallas.”
“Oh yeah?”
Gemma hadn’t said anything about running into Lara. It seemed the kind of thing she would have at least mentioned, especially because we’d spent all day Thursday together.
“She told me you were super close to winning the bingo contest, but that you needed a little help with finishing the card.”
I stared at her, silent and dumbstruck. Was she suggesting …
“Beverage service is over, and the bathroom back here is empty.”
Yep.
“I …” I had no words. No thoughts. Only a red warning flash the same color as her vibrant lipstick.
Lara frowned. “Am I too late?”
I cleared the lump in my throat. “No, there’s still a few more days until the month is over.”
“No. I meant am I too late for us?” Lara worried her lower lip. “Did I miss my opportunity?”
“Lara, I …”
I liked Lara. We got along, and I thought she was wildly attractive. And I wanted to be in a relationship, but I didn’t want to date just anybody. I wanted Anissa Khoury.
+ + +
I hadn’t bothered to tell Dawn I was coming; I hadn’t made the decision until earlier that morning while drinking coffee at my kitchen island. Technically, I was on call on Saturdays. But Anissa’s words about not neglecting family and not letting myself