Page 18 of Postmarked December

“Does he seem suspicious?” Marion asked.

Heather took in the slight gold in the man’s dark-brown hair, the square of his clean-shaven chin, and his strong shoulders. He wore a pair of jeans, a sweater, and a tailored coat that buttoned up the front. “Not at all. He looks like he’s on a business trip or something.”

“Keep your wits about you. Call me when you get to the hotel.”

“Okay.”

She ended the call and slipped her phone into her bag. With time to spare, she dug around in her backpack and pulled out one of her novels, opening to the first chapter. It didn’t take long before she was lost in the story, sipping her peppermint mocha, the bustle of holiday crowds fading into the distance.

Before long, it was time to line up to board the plane. She marked her place in the book, gathered her things, and got her ticket ready. Slowly, she shuffled forward, scanned her ticket, tossed her empty coffee cup into the trash can, and filed into the jetway. The airline attendant greeted her when she boarded, and she found her window seat without any issues.

“It’s a full flight today, folks,” the attendant said over the speaker. “There’s not much room in the overhead bins, so please stow any excess baggage beneath the seat in front of you…” Heather pushed her backpack under the seat with her foot, slipped her book into the pocket containing the beverage menu and emergency exit instructions, and belted herself in. The two empty seats beside her would hopefully have a nice couple in them who would chat softly and let her out if she needed to use the restroom.

But after a few minutes, she realized she wasn’t so lucky. A large man took the aisle seat, leaving the empty one between them for a stranger, who, given the size of the man, would be squished like a sardine between them. At least the flight to Greenville was only an hour and fifteen minutes, and while she’d had a full cup of coffee, she could probably hold it until they got to their destination.

People filed in, stopping to wedge their carry-ons into overhead bins and then making their way to the back of the plane. Then, the well-dressed guy with the magazine from the gate strode toward her. She hadn’t noticed his green eyes until now. He stood out among the weary passengers with his crisp look and unbothered demeanor. When he caught her looking, she quickly turned to the seat in front of her and retrieved her book.

The man on the end of her row stood up, shuffling backward, and in slid Green Eyes, dropping down between them. She kept her focus on her book, but wasn’t reading. He was jostling things, pushing his laptop bag under the seat and rearranging himself as he got settled, his arms moving precariously into her personal space because there was nowhere else for them to go. He bumped her.

“Sorry.” He flashed a smile that would stop traffic.

“It’s okay.”

He wriggled some more and fastened his seat belt while she attempted to focus on her book.

As the flight attendant gave the safety instructions, the plane eased away from the gate and began its slow roll along the taxiway. To avoid following her peripheral vision to the man sitting beside her, Heather turned her focus to the ground crew’s bright wands through the window as they directed the plane toward the runway.

As ground control cleared them to line up, Heather opened her book again. She began to read where she’d left off, the plane crawling once more. Moments later, they took their place in line for takeoff and she decided to wait to read until they were firmly in the air.

Green Eyes had his magazine open. He caught her looking again, and she quickly jerked back to her novel, sending her bookmark to the floor of the plane by the window. She nearly pulled a side muscle trying to retrieve it in such a small space, and when her fingers finally landed on it, her book slipped from her lap and fell on the other side of her feet. She righted herself as the man next to her bent over to get it.

“I’m Nicholas,” he said, and then handed her the book.

Why was he introducing himself? She never introduced herself to fellow passengers on planes. But, then again, she didn’t usually drop books on their feet either. Still. They were supposed to follow the unwritten rule of not infringing on what little personal space each of them had, unless nature called or there was an emergency, like dropping her book. He could’ve just kept to himself and let her sink into her thoughts. But he was providing first names—a definite no-no in her world. Was it his first time flying?

“I feel like the flight isn’t as awkward if you know the person you’re sitting next to.” He held out his hand. “You can call me Nick.”

His voice had a familiar cadence. No, maybe not familiar. Like an old friend. She shook his hand, Marion’s questioning chatter floating into her mind: Is he a stalker? Although he seemed to be traveling alone, with his kind eyes and gentle smile, he didn’t look anything like a stalker. And with him next to her, she felt safer. Surely if someone had bad intentions, they wouldn’t proceed with this broad, fit man chatting to her.

“I’m Heather,” she said.

His gaze roamed her face curiously. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same.”

There weren’t many in life who’d responded to her the way he just had. His full attention was on her, as if something as simple as her name was the most important bit of information he’d get that day.

She slipped her bookmark into her novel. “This is odd, though, don’t you think?” She waggled a finger between them.

Interest filled his face. “Why?”

“I don’t usually talk to other passengers on planes,” she said.

“Hm.” That little humph came out as if she was the oddball. “I don’t talk to everyone I sit next to. But when I do, I think plane conversations bring out the most authentic versions of ourselves.”

“What?” She couldn’t help herself. That comment made absolutely no sense to her. “How so?”

He shrugged, one shoulder lifting. “We’re suspended in the air with complete strangers, no exit, no personal space, no expectations. There’s something unique about that. In no other time in our lives do we face it.”