Chapter 33

Renee’s POV

“This is ridiculous,” Eric mutters to himself.

“Can’t you just command the plane to be here quicker?” I ask sarcastically and Eric shoots me a glare.

“If you want to go wait in that long line and get probed and treated like a criminal by all means be my guest,” Eric says snapping his phone shut and sliding it into his pocket.

“I don’t like being pampered,” I state. Eric makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a hum.

“What?” I ask.

“My ex-wife said the same things,” he says and I go cold. I don’t have a response for that.

“I guess not all women only care about money,” I say cautiously.

“I guess not,” Eric says. We’re silent for a moment. The plane is delayed by an hour which isn’t so bad, at least we have a direct flight.

I dig in my travel bag and pull out my sketchbook, maybe I can use this hour to draw. Between soccer practice; the business at work, and the drudgery of everyday life I never have time to sit down and be creative for fun anymore.

I’m aware of Eric eyeing me, but I try to ignore him. I press my charcoal to the sketchbook and just as I’m about to make the first stoke, I stop.

I never thought Eric paid attention to my drawings before, but I also assumed he didn’t know about my secret favorite drawing spot at the ice cream parlor either.

If I make something, maybe he’ll recognize it as Annie’s. I put the pencil and sketchbook away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks.

“Creative block,” I say. Eric laughs and I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but there’s no way for him to prove it.

“Would a drink help?” Eric asks. Aside from drawing, I also haven’t day drunk in forever either.

Another announcement breaks over the intercom. Our plane is delayed another hour. They answer Eric’s question. “Yes,” I tell him. “Why not?”

We go to the airport bar and grab our seats on some stools. The counter is black and sticky.

Airports are closed word because everyone is flying in from all different time zones. Some people are drinking mimosas and some are having a dirty martini.

I order a white wine, Eric takes a scotch, neat. I haven’t drunk since I almost got attacked by that awful client of ours. I’m praying this business trip goes a whole lot better than that last event.

I take a sip of my wine and on an empty stomach, the wine instantly gives me a buzz. It feels nice.

Eric’s smiling at me and only then do I realize my eyes were closed. I turn bright red; I probably looked so weird enjoying that sip as much as I did.

“Why-what are you smiling about?” I fumble over my words, adding to my embarrassment.

“You,” Eric says directly. “Lightweight?”

“Well, I haven’t drunk since the last client tried to—" I cut myself off, but Eric knows what I’m talking about. His face goes hard.

“That won’t happen again. Ever.” He says as if he has control over that, but somehow I believe him.

Somewhere between our second and third drink our flight had another delay.

At this point, we won’t be getting back until Monday and I should be stressed about that, but I’m too busy laughing as Eric tells a story of one client who placed an order with us thinking we were a meat company so as a prank Eric sent him a truckload of hats all in the shape of different steak cuts.

We’re definitely the loudest people at the bar right now, but no one seems to mind or maybe I’m too drunk to care.

“Oh, people are boarding the plane,” Eric says and jumps from his seat.

“What? We’ve had like a hundred delays,” I say stumbling to get to my feet.

“I guess that was a hundred delays ago,” Eric says and I’m not quite sure his answer makes sense but I can’t think straight enough to try and figure that out.

Before I know it, we’re walking onto the plane and for some reason, I can’t stop laughing. Eric is doing a much better job at keeping himself together, though I see a smile cracking beneath is stoic demeanor. I think refraining from laughing is what’s making me laugh even harder.

I have to remind myself I’m here on a business trip and Eric is my boss, despite the fact that he was my husband first-he doesn’t know that.

Eventually, I calm down.

We shuffle in a single filed line through a tight spherical tube that connects the plane to the terminal. I forgot this was a part of boarding planes. I hate it.

By the time we finally get on the plane, I’m struggling to breathe.

Eric looks at me with concern. “You okay?”

“It’s just the tight space,” I say and bring my hand to my chest.

Eric and I are sitting in first class and I know I said I don’t want the special treatment, but at least in first class, there’s more space.

We’re standing in the hallway of the plane. Eric is right behind me and another woman is right in front of me trying to put her luggage in the overhead carry space. Eric should’ve gone before me because this woman looks like she needs help getting her bag into the slot.

She’s a short older woman who’s dressed elegantly in pearls and a plaid pencil skirt. She probably never lifted a finger for any kind of manual labor a day in her life.

“Ma’am, would you like me to help?” Eric offers, but just as he does the woman gives a hard shove of her luggage at the wrong angle and it comes crashing down.

The next thing I know is I’m on the floor and my head is throbbing as a hot sensation spreads across my skull.

“Are you okay?” I hear someone ask. I steady my vision and see that it’s Eric. He’s helping me stand and I swallow some bile back down my throat.

“Excuse me, Miss,” a flight attendant snaps at me. “We do not tolerate such childish behavior on our airlines. You will be asked to leave if you continue to cause trouble for the other passengers;”

“Huh?” Is all I can manage to get out as I rub my head. Eric moves me aside.

“That is unacceptable. I’ll have you removed from this flight and all other aircraft whether that be for work or for personal boarding,” Eric berates the flight attendant who once looked composed and stern as she was talking to me now looks terrified as she cowers away from Eric.

I know what it’s like to be in her position.

Eric continues. “My travel partner here was hit with luggage and you come to throw her out? Who is your superior? I will be reporting this. And another thing, why does this airline not provide suitable shelving for the elderly who cannot reach the top of the plane? Or at the very least have an employee nearby who can assist. If you ask me, this airline is negligent to their paying customers,”

A few passengers nearby clap and the flight attendant clears her throat. “I am very sorry sir, it will not happen again,” she says and straightens her blouse.

“You can call me Eric Goldton” Eric corrects the woman and her eyes widen as she realizes who he is.

“Of course, Eric, and we’ll provide a complimentary massage for your travel partner here. For her troubles,”

I’m about to protest, but a massage does sound nice. Eric nods and the flight attendant goes to help the older woman. I lower my voice and whisper to Eric.

“Travel partner?” I giggle and Eric grins.

“How else should I refer to you?”