“You seemed like you needed it.”
“Your arm must be dead.”
“I stopped feeling my left hand somewhere over Pennsylvania.”
I covered my face.
“I am so sorry.”
He laughed quietly.
It was the first time I had heard him laugh.
“You helped me. Consider us even.”
Fiona had fallen asleep too, curled against the window.
I looked at Luca.
“You really didn’t move?”
“I was afraid you’d wake up.”
Something about that nearly undid me.
Not because it was romantic.
It wasn’t.
It was simply considerate.
I had become so used to being treated like my needs were an inconvenience that ordinary kindness felt almost dangerous.
A flight attendant approached our row as we began descending.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Luca looked up.
“Your security team confirmed they’re meeting you after landing.”
I turned my head.
Mr. Sterling.
The attendant continued speaking quietly, but I was no longer listening.
