Page 8 of You Know Why

Security is insane, but goes relatively quickly, considering. We burst out of the TSA checkpoint like quail flushed from the brush and run pell-mell, Trey carrying Neve, me holding Four’s hand, toward the gate. We arrive, out of breath and without a chance to stop for bathrooms or water, just as the flight is having its last call.

Trey pulls up short when he sees the city name over the gate.

“Atlanta?”

“Yes. The Atlanta flight goes straight to Milan. That attendant was amazing. We were upgraded and everything. Hurry, we have to get on.”

“No. I don’t want to fly through Atlanta. I want to fly through London.”

“Trey, we don’t have a choice. We got bumped from that flight. This is great—we’ll get there sooner, in better seats.”

I smile reassuringly—he really does hate to fly, so I can’t blame him for being reluctant to change plans at the last second—but it quickly fades. His whole body has gone stiff. The happy-go-lucky husband of the past several hours is gone, replaced by a tense and terse stranger.

I rarely see this side of my husband. He keeps it hidden away so well.

He grabs my arm, just a little too roughly. “Did you do this, Brooklyn? Did you call ahead and change the flights?”

“No. When would I have had time for that? Babe, I’ve been bumped a million times. This happens. That they upgraded us and moved things around instead of making us wait for six hours on standby for a different flight is very cool. New first-class cabin. Swanky. Five stars. Would highly recommend.”

“I am not joking.” He enunciates the words in a hiss. “I don’t want to fly through Atlanta.”

The gate agent makes the last call.

“Does it matter? We’re all set now. Personally, I’m excited to be in their fancy first class. It’s going to be awesome.” The pained look he gives me almost makes me laugh, but that would be a mistake. “Seriously, babe. It’s all good. My travel karma has kicked in. But we gotta get on the plane. Now.”

“Daddy?” Neve’s voice is all aquiver. Our sensitive girl. Four is watching us, too.

Trey swallows, shuts his eyes for a heartbeat. He really is upset about this. More than simply nerves. I put a hand on his arm and speak quietly.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can push this whole trip back. We’ve rushed every part of it. I can rebook us. It’s no big deal.” It’s a huge deal, I’ve rearranged our whole lives in the past twenty-four hours, but his reaction is so visceral that I don’t care.

He shakes his head, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “I have to be at that conference.” He’s thinking, calculating. His shoulders finally drop, and I recognize the decision has been made. I hand over the boarding passes. Shooting daggers at me, Trey stalks onto the jet bridge, leaving me with the kids and bags.

With a sigh, I follow.

Don’t I Know You?

I fight down the angry response brewing inside me and catch up to Trey at the door. We are the last to board, and everyone is staring at us. We slide into our seats—aisle and middle on either side, just before the first exit row—and get the kids squared away. Trey is already looking pale.

“It’s going to be fine.” I reach across the aisle and pat his hand.

“Tell me what happened to the other plane.”

The edge in his voice makes Neve squirm next to me.

“You’re scaring the kids,” I whisper.

“I am not. What happened?”

“I have no idea, other than I assume that we booked so late we were low man on the totem pole and got bumped. Probably needed to move some crew around. Really, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh, yeah. No big deal.”

It is not like Trey to be unreasonable. I know he’s spooked, but his sudden shift from excited dad to freaked-out flier rattles me, too. He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, a sure sign of anger.

I need to get him calmed down before he gets too upset. Trey is usually such an even-tempered man, but every once in a while, he will get tuned up by the littlest thing and explode. It’s epic—a rage. Unusual and rare, but it does happen. He doesn’t scream; he goes cold, icy, cutting. A cruel remoteness that is unsettling.

It’s all stress. I know that. The finance work he does for my aunt and uncle’s company is complicated and intricate, with high expectations from their very wealthy, very secretive clientele. It’s a level of professional perfection very few can manage, and of course, Trey expects everything to work as flawlessly as he does.