The plane gave another sharp bump that had her instinctively reaching a hand toward Cain again.
“Easy,” he murmured, catching her hand with his and giving it a quick squeeze. “You’re all right, Duchess.”
“I know.” Sort of. She shut her eyes.
He squeezed her hand once more, then released it, setting his wine on the small surface between their seats.
He went to unbuckle his seat belt, but she grabbed his wrist in panic. “The fasten seat belt sign is still on!”
“I’ll be quick,” he said with a wink.
He was. He stood and opened the overhead compartment to quickly retrieve his small duffel bag before sitting again and refastening his seat belt, all without the flight attendant noticing.
Violet took another sip of wine as he pulled out an iPad and earbuds. He set the iPad on its stand on his tray table and, unwinding the headphones, stuck one in her left ear before she could register what was happening.
She pulled it out. “What are you doing?”
“Better question is what are we doing?” he said, turning on the iPad and putting the other earbud in his right year.
“Fine. What are we doing?”
“Watching a movie. To get your mind off the whole up-in-the-air thing.”
“Oh, I don’t think—” She broke off as she noticed the movie he’d picked. “The Princess and the Frog?”
“A classic.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“It’s good,” he said in a matter-of-a-fact tone. “And set in Louisiana, so it’s required watching for you before we land.”
She stared at him, waiting for more explanation. “Okay, you know you have to explain, right? You’re literally the last person I’d expect to be familiar with Disney movies.”
He shrugged. “My best friend has a seven-year-old girl. I babysat before they moved to Germany.”
“Best friend? Germany?”
“Yes, I have one, Duchess. Clay’s in the army. Stationed in Frankfurt.”
The plane hit another bout of turbulence, and Cain wordlessly extended his hand, palm up. Slowly, Violet rested her hand on his, as the trademark Disney castle appeared on-screen.
Halfway through the movie, the pilot finally found some smoother air, and the turbulence stopped.
Cain did not release her hand.
* * *
“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Violet said in awe.
She stood on the tiny Juliet balcony of Cain’s apartment and took in the surrounding French Quarter.
Everything felt so alive. New York was alive too, but in a bustling, busy sort of way. New Orleans was somehow both lush and vibrant, yet unhurried. As though the city itself had a pulse.
“The architecture is so uniquely beautiful. Everything looks a bit like a fairy tale,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Cain.
Cain was leaning against the open French doors, watching her. “You may want to wait until Tuesday before making that assessment.”
“What’s Mardi Gras like?”
“Insane. Fantastic.”
“I can’t wait,” she said, inhaling the faint smell of what must be a nearby bakery. “I love this place already.”
“Sorry we didn’t have any luck finding a hotel room.”
“You warned me it would be impossible,” she said. “And it’s me who should be apologizing. I’m crashing your space.”
“And there’s not a lot of it.”
There wasn’t. Cain’s apartment, as he’d prepared her for, was small. There was no door separating the bedroom from the main living space. The kitchen was more of a wall than a room, with a basic two-burner stove and a tired-looking fridge. The counter had enough room for a coffeepot, and that was about it.
The living room was a couch, a chair, and a chest he used as a coffee table. There was a small, scuffed wooden dining table tucked into the corner and two chairs, both looking like they wobbled.
And then there was the bed. Not a huge, enormous king bed, but one that tucked into the slightly slanted ceiling, an unfussy gray quilt. The bed where she’d be sleeping.
With him just a few feet away.
He caught her eyes, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
Then he disappeared, and when he came back, he was holding two standard drinking glasses, both filled with sparkling liquid.
“Champagne.”
“Sure, we can call it that,” he said, handing it to her. “Just as long as you adjust your taste buds to prepare for something I believe an ex-girlfriend picked up for nine bucks.”
“Ex-girlfriend?” she asked. “What was her name?”
“Jolie.”
“Of course it was. How long did you date?”
“Not long. Few weeks. Burned bright and then she moved to Birmingham to take care of her grandma. I wished her well. End of story.”
“Well, that’s not very juicy.”
“Not much of my romantic history is.”
“Probably more so than mine,” she muttered.
He looked up quickly, then back at the bottle. “What happened with you and the duke?”
“We broke up.”
Cain handed her a glass. “Yeah, I got that part. Why?”
She sniffed her drink as she considered her answer. It smelled vaguely of banana, which was probably not a good sign.
“I guess I realized he wasn’t what I wanted anymore,” Violet said softly.