Before You

“Are you this nice to all of your patients?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I …” She paused, not knowing where to go from here, her face getting redder by the second.

The doctor smiled, his hand moving to the side railing of her bed. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Honey pushed her head into the pillow, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, searching her memory for his face. Slowly, as she continued to stare at him, the haze began to wear off.

And it came to her.

“I remember.”

EIGHT

JARED

“I’M BILLIE PAIGE,” she said, holding her hand out to me.

Her grip wasn’t tiny or weak. Neither was her personality. What she had was an old soul that went beyond her age, telling me there was nothing immature about the beautiful woman sitting next to me.

“Sounds a bit silly,” she continued. “I just told you half my life story, and you didn’t even know my name. Maybe we were supposed to meet in reverse.”

We had already flown through the clouds, and I hadn’t said more than a few words.

I liked it that way, and I liked listening to her talk.

But sitting in this chair, on this plane, was the biggest mindfuck of my life.

Still holding her hand, I said, “Jared Morgan. Nice to meet you, Billie.”

Her head tilted a little to the side, a smile covering her mouth. “You can ask.” Her grip loosened, but she was slow to pull her hand away. “Everyone does.”

It took me a second to figure out what she was referring to, and then I went with the obvious choice. “Someone a Billie Holiday fan?”

She shook her head. “Billie Burke.”

“Billie Burke,” I repeated, and then it came to me. “From Wizard of Oz.”

“She was Glinda, the Good Witch, and also my mother’s favorite actress.”

When her grin changed, when it deepened—turning even more genuine, more breathtaking—I looked away, staring at my hands, keeping my gaze there. That was much safer than looking at her.

“I’m impressed you knew that,” she said.

I heard someone approach from behind and turned just in time to see a flight attendant about to pass our row, the first one to come by since we’d taken off.

“Excuse me.” She stopped in front of my seat, and I added, “Is there any way you can bring us some drinks?”

“Once we reach cruising altitude, that shouldn’t be a problem. What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks. The best brand you have.”

Billie answered, “Mimosa, thanks.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” she responded and continued down the aisle.

The break I’d taken from Billie’s eyes wasn’t long, but I needed it. Especially when our stares connected again, and her eyes were even fierier than before.

“What do you do, Jared?”

Soon, I would have a drink in my hand, we would be at a steady pace, and it would appear as though I’d survived the takeoff.

I was sure she would think that.

Except the feeling I had inside of me wasn’t about the takeoff at all.

NINE

BILLIE

I’D MET hundreds of people during my travels, characteristics ranging from the most interesting to painfully boring and every level in between. There was nothing bland about Jared Morgan. Everything I’d seen so far only intrigued me more, and I desperately wanted him to keep talking.

Ironically, he was a man of few words.

He rubbed his hand over his thigh and finally answered my question, “I work in the security industry.”

Each pass over his leg sent me more of his scent. Even though it was subtle, it was present, and when I got a whiff of my coffee, I found myself searching for his cologne instead.

“That means, you’re either techy or the protective type.” My stare deepened as I took in his face, but I didn’t need to. I knew it all, along with the answer. “Protective. Definitely.”

“You’re correct.”

I was going to have to dig.

I was fine with that.

“Tell me your story, Jared. I want to know how someone gets into your field.”

He crossed his leg, the heel of his leather shoe facing me. He didn’t notice me staring at the size of it because he was focused on the front of the plane.