“I hate that happened to your sister. I wish I could have met her. What was she like?”
Lance reclined in bed. He had her attention, so he would capitalize on it. “Funny. Smart. Athletic. One of the best people I knew.”
Andrea bobbed her head. “You must miss her a lot.”
“I do. I... uh... I miss you, Andrea.”
“I miss you too. But...”
He sat up. “But what?”
“Maybe we need to take some time.”
“Time? For what? You want to call off the wedding?”
She shook her head. “Not that, but I think we need to consider what we’re doing.”
Lance shut his eyes. This could only mean trouble. He didn’t believe in putting a relationship on hold or on pause. They were getting married, or they weren’t. “I have another option.”
“What?”
“Come to Delta Heights.”
“Lance, I—”
“Come to Delta Heights and help me finish planning this wedding. If not, I’ll know where your heart is.”
She only stared back at first, but her lips parted. “Okay.”
She agreed? Did he hear correctly? “Okay?”
“You’re right.”
He had to reassure her. “It’s not an ultimatum, but I think you need to be here.” It would be easier. If Andrea were here, it would blot out the nonsense he was thinking. He bit his lips. Not quite nonsense.
Chantelle being back in town wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They shared their favorite childhood memories. They teased each other, but there was too much history. Lance wouldn’t let his impulses take over. That happened once before, and it broke the hearts of those around him.
He had shared his past with Andrea. She knew of his first marriage, but he didn’t tell her who his ex was. Was now the right time?
“I’ll talk to my agent about my schedule,” she said.
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Andrea gave a slight smile.
***
Lance settled in his seat on the airplane ride to New York. He could have ridden first class as his father suggested, but what for? To show off? He didn’t mind meeting other passengers beside him. He even met a few kids on the trips whose parents let them bounce in their seats.
The flight attendants greeted the passengers as they boarded, and his eyes diverted to the overhead compartments. He loaded his laptop inside, wanting to at least take a nap before working on the last notes of his presentation. Lance rubbed his eyes, fighting off the sleepiness. He wanted to be in the air when he slept, preferring to be awake during takeoff.
A few people blocked the aisle as they shoved their bags in the compartments overhead. He stared at the set television screens in the back seats, while slots inside the fabric seats held magazines. Beverage carts squeaked in the background, along with laughter and chatter. Lance inhaled snack foods, fresh coffee, and the sharp scent of hand sanitizer.
>
He patted his phone in his pocket. Lance was sure his mother already knew about him firing June Myers. Despite her being in bed with a cold, his mother had called him six times to ask why. He didn’t answer.
Twisting the watch on his wrist, he hoped he could close this deal. Resting his head against the headrest, Lance closed his eyes. If only he could get away. He was only twenty-eight, but why did he feel exhausted?