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What the ever-loving hell?
I swear to God, it really is haunting me. I have half a mind to stand up and look around the plane to tell whoever is playing it to put on some fucking headphones. No one wants to hear that shit.
I hunker down further in my seat and try to tune it out, but I swear to god, it gets even louder. Like it’s fucking mocking me.
“Emilia.”
The voice coming over the plane’s speakers makes me squeeze my eyes shut even tighter. Because evidently, I’m not handling the copious amounts of tequila very well. What a fucking mess of a day.
“Emilia.”
Jesus Christ, now I’m not only hearing our song, but Evan’s voice is invading my consciousness on some weird psychological level that I don’t understand. I think I need to break up with tequila, too, at this point. Maybe the flight attendant has some vodka?
I sit up straight and look for her again, but this time, the person standing at the front of the plane speaking into the intercom isn’t some flight attendant talking about flotation devices.
It’s Evan.
No. Fucking. Way.
And he’s got his phone held up to the intercom, playing that goddamn, stupid as fuck, perfectly beautiful song.
“Em…baby. I love you.”
God, does tequila have after-effects that make your eyes water thirty minutes after the fact?
“It’s you, Em. It’s always been you. It always will be you.”
Someone nearby lets out a godawful sound, like their heart is being ripped from their chest or something.
Oh, shit. That’s me.
Yeah, I’m crying like a baby right now.
Evan…is here?
But why? How? I don’t understand.
I look around frantically, realizing that everyone on the entire plane is looking at us, eyes wide, like we’re the best entertainment they’ve seen all day.
He starts walking slowly toward me, the intercom stretching as he pulls it behind him. I mean, I’m only two rows back, but apparently what he has to say, he wants the whole plane to hear.
“Baby, I love you, and I’d be the biggest fool in the entire world if I let you get on this plane and walk out of my life forever.”
I swallow hard, trying to breathe past the lump in my throat. I don’t know what’s happening here, but my heart is hammering in my chest.
“I’m sorry. For not realizing what you needed. And for not showing you that I can be that for you.”
He’s inches away from me now, and he drops the intercom and reaches up to cup my face. His thumb brushes over my cheek, wiping away the tears.
Our eyes are locked, all the love we have for each other on full display for the entire plane. I don’t know what he was thinking, coming here to tell me this on a plane, but it means everything to me that he wouldn’t let me leave without saying it.
“I love you, Em.”
I nod wordlessly, not trusting myself to speak. But words aren’t necessary. What we have transcends mere speech.
It’s timeless, primal, raw.
And pure.
