Chapter 2

At seven that evening, the reception was held in the top-floor ballroom of the airport hotel. The floor-to-ceiling windows faced the runways of Boston's airport, planes taxiing one after another through the night, their wingtip lights like drifting stars.

The ballroom was full of pilots, lead flight attendants, airline management, and their families. Everyone was polished, everyone spoke with restraint, even the toasts and small talk seemed rehearsed.

Ethan stood beside me. Dark suit, silver-gray tie, shoulders straight. Even out of uniform he looked like a man ready to step into a cockpit at any moment. Precise, calm, no wasted motion. I stood next to him holding a glass of soda water, like a proper fiancée, at least in everyone else's eyes.

"Ethan." A woman's clear voice carried over from the other side of the crowd.

Claire came over. A sharply tailored uniform skirt, blond hair pinned back, clean makeup, a bright smile. When she saw me, she offered a polite smile. "Emma, so nice to see you."

She said my name so naturally, as if we were really close. I gave a small nod. "Good evening."

Claire didn't keep her attention on me for long. She took a bound debrief booklet from her bag and held it out to Ethan. "The final version of the materials you helped me revise. I'll take them to the simulator eval tomorrow."

Ethan took it and opened it. The pages were dense with his handwriting, red, blue, and black crisscrossing, more detailed than the notes he made for any official pre-flight briefing. A captain nearby teased with a laugh, "Carter, you're always tough on rookies, but Claire's the first one to get this many notes out of you, isn't she?" A few others laughed along.

Claire's face flushed faintly. "Ethan's just worried I'll slip up in front of the examiner."

Ethan didn't deny it. He turned two pages and said, "On the stall recovery part, don't explain for too long. State your reasoning first, then why you chose that order of actions."

Claire nodded. "Got it." Her tone was professional and patient.

I stood off to the side, remembering how five years ago I'd sent him a photo of my mother's journal. He never even opened the picture.

Sophie walked over to me with a wine glass. She glanced at the debrief booklet, then at Ethan. "Captain Carter certainly has plenty of time." She let out a small laugh. "Emma begs you for one glance at her mother's journal, and you say flight safety isn't for humoring people. Claire's debrief booklet, and you revise it down to the order of the sentences."

The ballroom around us went quiet for a moment. A few family members turned to look.

Ethan's face darkened. "Sophie, this isn't the place for emotional outbursts."

"I'm stating facts." Sophie took a sip of her wine. "If the facts sound emotional, then maybe the facts themselves just aren't pretty."

Ethan looked at me. There was a warning in his eyes, not anger, but the kind of displeasure that said you should keep your friend in line.

I didn't say a word.

Claire's expression immediately turned uneasy, and she reached for the booklet. "Sorry, if it makes Emma uncomfortable, I'll put it away."

Ethan pressed a hand on the booklet, the gesture light but clear. "No need." He looked at Claire. "Professional training doesn't have to give way to personal misunderstandings."

Personal misunderstandings. That word again. I realized it didn't hurt as much anymore. Past a certain point, the body just goes numb on its own.

Claire lowered her eyes, looking a little embarrassed at being defended. After a while the reception went on, some people telling flying stories, others talking about route adjustments. I'd been standing a long while and went looking for something to eat. That was when I saw Claire fussing with her epaulet, its button a little loose.

Ethan saw. He stepped forward without a second thought, leaned down and fastened it for her, his fingers brushing along her shoulder, the motion practiced and intimate. He lowered his voice. "Don't be this careless during the check tomorrow." Claire looked up at him, her eyes brightening. "Understood, Captain."

People around them laughed, as if watching a bit of harmless flirtation.

I suddenly remembered when we'd first gotten engaged. Once, after a night shift, I was so cold my fingers were shaking, and Ethan buttoned up my coat for me and said, "You have me now. I'll be the one you lean on, your safe harbor." I held on for five years after that, and he never once noticed.

I set my glass on the table. "I'm going to the restroom." Sophie moved to follow, and I pressed her hand. "It's fine."

The corridor was carpeted thick enough to swallow every footstep. The restroom was quiet. I turned on the tap and rinsed my hands. In the mirror my makeup was still mostly intact, my face a little pale. The door opened, and Claire came in and stood beside me to touch up her lipstick.

"Emma." She said my name, her voice lower than before. "You really don't need to read so much into my training with Ethan."

I turned off the tap. "Is that so?"

"He's just my mentor." She looked at me in the mirror, her tone gentle, like she was clearing up a misunderstanding. "If you don't understand how the flight training system works, it's easy to mistake normal guidance for a threat."

"Normal guidance?" I turned to face her. "Including pulling an all-nighter editing a promotion video on Valentine's Day?"

Her hand paused, then she quickly smiled again. "That day really was urgent." She capped her lipstick and put it back in her bag. "I know you might not feel great about it. But Ethan's just that kind of person. He throws himself into the things that really matter."

The things that really matter. She said it lightly, but it was like a thorn.

I nodded. "Then you'd better keep that debrief booklet safe."

She looked at me. "What?"

"After all, it's the closest thing to evidence in this so-called professional relationship of yours."

The smile slowly faded from Claire's face. I pulled a paper towel and dried my hands. "Don't lose it." Then I tossed the towel in the trash and pushed the door open.

In the ballroom Ethan still stood at the center of the crowd, the runway lights behind him. Claire soon came out and returned to his side. Ethan tilted his head and asked her something, and she shook her head, her eyes rimmed red. He raised his eyes to me, and that look was cold, as if I'd done something wrong again.

I found it funny. When someone refuses to see that you're hurting, they treat every reaction of yours as trouble.

I looked down at my phone. The Seattle ticket page was still open, booking status: confirmed.