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Hannah just shakes her head, and we chuckle. I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re here. I can’t believe you actually agreed to this.”
“It was a pretty crazy idea,” Hannah agrees. “But this might be our last chance with the little one on the way.”
I smile, even though it hurts. “Did you always know I would keep it?”
She nods.
“How?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I just did. I’m so sorry about… you know.”
Up until now, we’ve successfully avoided taking about it—the whole Greyson thing. At the mention, something twists in my stomach.
“It’s OK,” I say, even though it isn’t, at all. “Better we’re honest with ourselves now then months or even years down the road. I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t a hundred percent in it. Plus, he already chose the company over me.” I exhale. “Not that I blame him.”
Hannah gives my arm a squeeze.
I give my belly a pat. “And now I’ve got a bun cooking in the oven.”
Hannah glares at me. “Stop.”
“What can I say,” I continue, smiling evilly. “I’ve got a bat in the cave. I’m in the pudding club. My tin roof’s rusted. I’ve got a pea in the pod.”
Hannah groans. “Help me, Lord.”
I pat her. “Just think of the feasts we’ll have! Now that I’m eating for two.”
“Let’s start with plane food,” Hannah says eagerly. “This is the one and only time I’m A-OK with eating obscene amounts of Pringles.”
“Yeah, let’s drink our faces off and—” I freeze, realizing it at the last second. “Oh.”
“Drink apple juice for two?” Hannah tries.
I force a laugh. “Really, it’s fine. I just have to get used to it. This. Me and my little something something.”
“That’s not even a saying,” Hannah declares with an eye roll.
I sniff. “That’s what you think.”
“Flight 45 to Bangkok is now boarding. All passengers in Aisles I-P, please line up immediately,” the grouch-faced stewardess intones overhead.
Hannah and I exchange a glance. “That’s us.”
We rise.
“Harley!” someone yells.
I freeze. No way.
“Harley!” the familiar voice yells again.
I turn around. Holy fucking hell. Yeah way. It’s Greyson, racing towards us.
“I… you…” he wheezes. “Don’t go.”
I gape at him as he skids to a stop right in front of me. “Please. I need to… talk to you.”
“OK.” I stand there staring at him. This doesn’t feel real.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” Hannah says. “I can probably get the stewardess to give us an extra minute or two.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, before turning to gape some more at Greyson. “How did you even find us?”
His eyes feel like they’re boring into me, they’re filled with such intensity and adoration. “A friend… Harley, you have to listen to me. Last night was a shock, but I’ve been thinking. I don’t want to be without you. I want us to work. Without you, my work is nothing. My life… please. Harley, I want to be with you.”
I stare at him. How is he managing to say just about everything I longed to hear?
“But last night…” I say. “And Storm Media, how can we…”
“Screw Storm Media, screw everything.” He seizes both my hands, brings them to his chest, his eyes going tender as they meet mine. “All I know is: every one of the happiest days of my life has been with you.”
I peer at him. He’s still catching his breath, but those eyes—invigorated, excited, happy, scared—say it all: he means it. Every word.
“Still, though.” It can’t be this easy. “You have responsibilities. People who count on you.”
“I’ve stepped down as president,” he says. “It was never what I wanted, anyway. Landon is more up to the job, has always been a better leader than me. I can mentor him until he’s ready.”
“OK,” I say. “But the trip… we’ve booked our tickets. And I just feel like this is so sudden. How do I know you aren’t just trying to do the right thing by me because of the baby? Because if so, that’s not what I want. At all.”
“Harley.” Greyson forces a miserable smile. “I was away from you for 24 hours and it was pure torture. You calling me up gave me an excuse to reach out to you. I would’ve cracked in a few days, tops. I’m an idiot.” Another one of those grimace-smiles I want to kiss away. “A complete idiot. The kind of idiot who only realizes what he has once it’s gone, but—I’d rather that than be the kind of idiot who lets the best thing that ever happened to him leave. Harley, I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to date you, I want to name our child together. When I’m with you, for the first time, I finally get what all this ‘love’ craziness is about.” He exhales, looking as surprised at the words coming out of his mouth as I feel. But the craziest thing of all is that they’re true. They’re really true. “You’re it, my it.”
