Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 04

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 04

Nathan didn’t come home that night.

He walked in the next afternoon, smelling faintly of that woody cologne Amber Reid always wore.

He dropped his keys by the door and looked at me coldly.

“You done throwing your tantrum yet?”

I was sealing a box with packing tape. Didn’t look up.

“You ignoring me now?” He walked over and kicked the box. “Why are you packing up all this junk?”

“Just sorting through things I don’t use.”

He laughed, mean. “Clara, your little reverse-psychology game is pathetic. You think if you freeze me out for a few days, I’ll come crawling?”

I stood up and brushed the dust off my hands.

“I don’t want you to crawl.”

“Then why the attitude? You made Amber cry for half an hour. You owe her an apology.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

“You’re unbelievable.” He yanked at his hair in frustration and dropped onto the couch.

“I don’t have time for this. Next Wednesday I’m flying the aurora route to Reykjavik. You know what? If you just admit you were wrong, I’ll give you the buddy pass I was saving for Amber and take you to see the lights.”

I froze.

Northern Lights.

Six years ago I was diagnosed with thyroid nodules. Benign, but it scared me half to death.

He held my hand by the hospital bed and said, “When you’re better, I’ll take you to see the Lights. On my flight. We’ll watch the most beautiful night sky together.”

That promise sat for six years.

Now he was holding it over me like a bribe. A six-year-old promise. And that ticket was meant for Amber.

“Not interested?” He frowned when I didn’t answer. “You know how hard it is to score a buddy pass on that route? Amber asked me for weeks before I caved. The only reason I’m offering it to you is our anniversary.”

“Fine. Just give it to her.” My voice was so quiet I barely heard myself.

“What?”

“I said give it to her. I don’t want it.”

Nathan shot to his feet. His face went dark.

“Clara, don’t be an ungrateful bitch. I’m giving you a chance. You blow this off, don’t come crying to me later.”

“I won’t.”

He grabbed a glass off the coffee table and smashed it on the floor.

Shards hit my shin. A thin line of blood appeared.

He didn’t even look. Just turned and slammed out.

I looked down at the blood, grabbed a napkin, and wiped it off.

It didn’t hurt. Really, it didn’t.

…

Wednesday came.

Eight-year anniversary.

Also the day my resignation went into effect. The day I left this city.

I took my one suitcase and caught a cab to the airport.

My flight to Sierra Vista was at three p.m.

After I checked in, I sat in the gate area and watched planes take off and land.

The aurora route flight left at two.

Nathan would be in the left seat by now, getting ready for pushback.

I opened my phone to take one last look at his flight status. A final period on eight years.

The crew info popped up.

The captain’s name wasn’t Nathan.

It was someone I didn’t recognize.

I blinked. Did he call in sick?

Then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Near the first-class lounge entrance.

A man in a casual trench coat was pushing a pink suitcase inside.

Next to him, a woman in a matching coat.

Her arm was looped through his. Her head rested on his shoulder.

Nathan and Amber.

I stood there watching them walk into the lounge.

Behind me, two gate agents were chatting.

“Hey, wasn’t that Captain Hayes? I thought he was flying Reykjavik today.”

“He took leave last minute. Rumor is he’s going to Finland with Amber.”

“Amber was showing off in the group chat yesterday. Said Nathan ditched the aurora route just to buy regular tickets and take her on a long vacation.”

“That’s so romantic. He really goes all out for her.”

I almost laughed.

So he hadn’t given me Amber’s buddy pass.

He threw away his responsibility as a pilot for her. Organized that whole Northern Lights trip for the two of them.

And then lied to my face to make himself look generous.

The boarding announcement for my flight came over the speakers.

I looked toward the first-class lounge one more time.

Then I turned and handed my boarding pass to the gate agent.

Doors closed.

Taxi. Takeoff. Wheels up.

At thirty thousand feet, one of his airline’s planes carried me up through the clouds.

And Nathan—Nathan had taken vacation time for his teddy bear and was sitting in first class on another plane.

I looked out at the sea of clouds.

Eight years. I was finally free.