He Said Waiting Is Romantic But Not For Me Chapter 01

He Said Waiting Is Romantic But Not For Me Chapter 01

The cabin lights went dark when the plane diverted.

Someone in the front row was crying while recording a goodbye video.

I pulled out my phone to call my husband Cole Harrison one last time.

That’s when I saw his fresh post.

A photo of him holding up a bouquet of baby’s breath. Check-in at Meadowbrook International Airport.

The caption: [Waiting for someone to land.]

Tessa Collins replied underneath, [Haha, knew I could count on you, Cole.]

Something jammed in my chest.

I was thirty thousand feet in the air, about to die any second, and he was waiting for Tessa to land.

I opened our chat.

The flight number I’d sent him three days ago was still sitting there, unread.

Three years of marriage. He’d done hundreds of airport pickups. Not one of them was for me. 　　Even when I diverted to some random city at two in the morning and called him.

All I got was “Take a cab,” and he hung up.

But when Tessa’s flight got delayed three hours, he waited in the parking lot until dawn and posted about it. 　　[Waiting is its own kind of romance.]

The plane landed safely in the end.

Three in the morning. The whole terminal was filled with people calling to say they were okay.

I stood in the middle of the crowd and dialed his number.

Straight to voicemail.

I tried again. Still off.

Ahead of me, a guy was saying into his phone, “Babe, the plane diverted, but I’m fine. Don’t be scared.”

His voice shook when he said “Don’t be scared.”

I felt a sudden envy for a complete stranger’s wife.

That was the last time I ever found my own way home from a strange city.

Next time, I wasn’t flying toward a direction where no one was waiting.

***

Seven in the morning. I pushed open the front door.

Cole’s slippers were sitting neatly on the shoe rack by the entryway.

He hadn’t come home all night.

I sank onto the couch. The dark purple bruise strapped across my wrist from the seatbelt pulsed with every heartbeat.

Eight thirty. The lock clicked.

The door opened.

Cole walked in, carrying a bag of that trendy breakfast from the place on the west side of town that always has a huge line.

Right behind him was Tessa, wrapped in his oversized jacket.

When he saw me sitting in the living room, Cole paused mid-step.

“When did you get back?” His voice was casual. “Thought you weren’t coming in until the afternoon.”

“Diverted at three in the morning. Got home at seven.”

“A diversion? Yeah, thunderstorms make that happen.”

He set the breakfast on the dining table and turned to grab Tessa some slippers.

“Tessa’s flight got delayed last night too. She was so freaked out she was crying at the airport. It was super late when I got her, and she didn’t want to be alone, so I told her she could crash here for a few days.”

He said “she could crash here.” 　　Like a parent bringing home a kid who needed shelter. Completely unapologetic.

“I told you my plane diverted,” I said.

“Yeah, I know. A few hours late is normal. You could’ve just taken a cab.”

He walked over, poured two glasses of water, and handed one to Tessa.

“You always get yourself home from work trips. Don’t start a fight just because I didn’t pick you up, okay?”

“Cole, is Elise mad at me?” Tessa clutched her glass and stood behind him, all timid.

“Ignore her. She’s just grumpy in the morning.” Cole turned to me. “Come eat. I waited in line forever to get you that clam chowder.”

I didn’t move.

“I’m allergic to shellfish. I went to the ER last month.”

Cole’s face froze.

He looked at the chowder, then at Tessa.

“Oh… sorry, Elise,” Tessa said softly. “I’m the one who said I wanted clam chowder. Cole bought all seafood stuff. He probably just got mixed up.”

Just got mixed up.

Three years of marriage. My allergy meant less to him than Tessa’s casual craving.

“It’s fine. Don’t eat it then. I’ll reheat it for lunch.” Cole waved a hand, trying to cover his guilt with irritation. “And you—next time give me a heads up earlier. If you’re hungry, just heat up some frozen pizza or something.”

Cole turned and headed for the bedroom, throwing open the closet.

“Elise, where’d you put that Egyptian cotton sheet set?” he called out.

“There are clean cotton sheets in the guest room.”

“Tessa can’t sleep on just anything. Cotton feels rough on her skin—she breaks out in hives. You never use that Egyptian cotton set anyway. Let her have it.”

My mom had brought that back for me from her trip last year.

I never even used it myself.

He pulled it out without a second thought and carried it toward the guest room.

“Oh, by the way.” He stopped beside me. “You have any bruise cream? Tessa banged her knee at the airport last night. Just a small bruise.”

I raised my right hand.

The dark purple welt from where the seatbelt had crushed me during the turbulence.

Cole froze. His pupils shrank.

“Your hand… what happened?”

“The plane dropped out of the sky during the diversion.”

I watched his stunned face. My voice came out calmer than I expected.

“If you’d had your phone on last night, you would’ve gotten the airline’s emergency call.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

From the guest room, Tessa let out a little yelp, “Cole—oops, I think I snagged the sheet!”

Cole flinched.

“First aid kit’s under the TV stand. Put something on it yourself. I’ll go check on her.”

He didn’t hesitate for a second. Turned and walked into the guest room.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was my director. 　　“Elise, that London division head position. Have you made up your mind?”