Trying to make him smile

*Kiera*

What the hell am I doing? Oh god, I need to have my head examined. I literally just moved to New York to start over, and now, instead of gearing up for a busy week at my new job, I'm standing on the tarmac at a private airport, staring up at the company jet. Mr. Lund is already scaling the steps ahead of me. After shaking hands with the flight attendant, he ducks inside the plane.

The customs official shines his little light on my passport. “And what is the nature of your visit to Denmark?"

"Umm... business?"

His bushy mustache twitches as he frowns. "You're doing business in Denmark?"

"Well, it would feel weird to say 'pleasure.' It's definitely not a vacation. We're going for family reasons, I guess. Mr. Lund’s sister died. We need to get his niece from the hospital. I mean… are you…" I point at his flashlight and my passport. "You're not even writing any of this down, so does it really matter?"

He raises a brow, "Why don’t you let me ask the questions? Does that work for you?"

"Yep, all good." I nod, rocking on the balls of my feet.

"When do you intend to return to the United States?"

I give a small shrug, "Honestly, I don't know. A week from now, maybe? What did Mr. Lund say? I'm just following his lead here."

"You're leaving the country, and you don't know when you'll return?"

Oh great, now I’m definitely going to prison.

"We're coming back in a week," I say again, my voice rising slightly. "And I swear, I don’t have any drugs or anything. I won't get any drugs in Copenhagen either," I add, panic creeping in.

He just keeps staring at me. "Why would you even say that?"

I groan. "Look, I'm sorry… I'm just really nervous."

"Do you have reason to be nervous?"

Jesus, I didn’t know boarding this flight would require a mandatory therapy session.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I guess I tend to make a lot of rash decisions. Classic Kiera, you know?"

"I don’t…"

"Well, I can’t just let things lie," I cut in. "I obsess, I fixate, I fantasize. I drive myself crazy. And then I do something that feels way too big, you know? This is one of those big things. I just have this feeling that I’m about to get on this plane and my whole life is going to change. Do you ever have those moments, Julio? When you just know everything is about to be different?"

He casually flips through the blank pages of my passport. "No."

"Well, I’m having one of those moments right now. Because two weeks ago, I packed up my whole life and moved to New York… Escaping another of those moments. Now, I’m getting on a private jet to help negotiate the international medical transfer of a billionaire CEO’s injured niece. Are you following, Julio?"

"No."

"Okay, let me break it down. This is about Mr. Lund and his sweet little niece, who’s lying in a hospital, alone and scared. And Mr. Lund, while super handsome, kind of scares me… So, can you please just sign my passport, or stamp it, or do whatever the hell it is you do so I can get on the plane and…"

"Have a good flight." He hands back my passport. "And don’t bring back any drugs."

I stuff my passport into my backpack’s front pocket. "I won’t. I swear, I’m so freaking clean."

"Good. Hope the little girl is okay. And good luck with your scary hot boss." With a chuckle, he steps aside, clearing the way for me to board the plane.

This guy was messing with me on purpose. Not giving him a chance to change his mind, I grab my duffel bag and race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. At the top, a flight attendant waits with a tray of drinks. “Good evening, Miss Connor. Would you like an orange juice or a glass of champagne?"

Oh god, I can’t be trusted with alcohol right now. And the sugar in orange juice might send me spiraling. “Can I just get a water?"

"Of course," she replies with a smile. "If you’d like to find your seat, we’ll begin our departure."

I step onto the plane and walk through the galley. "Whoa."

The luxery interior is all creamy leather and faux wood paneling, with soft jazz playing in the background. Mr. Lund is seated about a third of the way back in a club chair, his phone in hand, cab pulled low, hiding his eyes.

I glance around, unsure of where to sit. There’s another club chair directly across from him, but maybe he wants his space. I could sit up front, but that feels awkward too. I don’t want him staring at the back of my head the whole flight. Maybe I could keep going to the back… maybe there’s a bed or something. I could stretch out, get a little sleep.

The flight attendant makes the decision for me, stepping past with my water. She sets the glass down on the little table next to the open club chair. "Would you like me to take your bag, Miss Connor?"

"Sure." I hand her my duffel bag, and she makes it disappear into a bin. I take my seat.

Dropping my backpack at my feet, I glance over at Mr. Lund. “Did you hear back from the hospital?"

"I did."

"And Frida?"

"They had to take her into surgery to set a bone in her leg."

"Shit. Did they say what happened?"

"It was a hit and run… but they caught him," he explains. "A young driver. Apparently, he walked away without a scratch. Meanwhile, Frida has crush injuries to her left side. And my sister…" He bites back the words, tugging the bill of his hat lower. He doesn’t want to say it, and I won’t make him. When he’s ready, maybe someday we can talk about her.

"But Frida… do they think she’ll make a full recovery?"

He nods.

“That’s good. Yes, broken bones suck, there’s no way around that, but they heal. Just means she gets to spend a couple of months being pampered with ice cream and movie marathons. I bet she’ll be back on her feet in no time." I say trying to lighten the mood.

He nods again. After a moment, he sets his phone aside. "Kiera, before we take off, I just... I want to thank you again."

"Hey, don’t even worry about it…"

"No, I want to." His navy-blue eyes look so forlorn. "I’m not always good at expressing myself. I know you haven’t felt comfortable around me..."

Oh god, this is so freaking embarrassing. My mind races as I scramble for the right words. “Mr. Lund, look…”

“You don’t have to bother denying it,” he interrupts, his voice steady. “It’s obvious how uncomfortable I make you. I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to… or work with. But I’ll try to do better. Just know that this is a tough time for me, so if I struggle with the niceties of social interactions…”

“Hey.” I lean across the aisle, resting my hand on his arm. I can see the pain in his eyes… grief and exhaustion etched into his features. “You don’t owe me an explanation. And you definitely don’t owe me an apology. There’s nothing wrong with you, Mr. Lund. I’m just weird because I’m weird, not because you’re weird. You’re perfect, okay? Just be yourself, and I’ll be myself, and we can be weird and awkward together. Sound good?”

He nods, and I can’t help but smile as I pull my hand back. “So, tell me about Denmark. Do you think we’ll see any polar bears?” The way he chuckles makes my chest swell with pride. I did that. I distracted him and brought a smile to his face. See? I’m already helping.

“No, we won’t see any polar bears in Copenhagen.”

I lean over in my seat, grinning. “But, I mean, never say never, right? There are polar bears in Denmark, aren’t there?”

He shakes his head, “Only in the zoo.”

“That actually makes me kind of sad.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his lips pursed as he thinks it over. “Yeah. Me too.”