“I don’t even have a power cord.”
“It’s all packed and ready to go.”
“But… what… what happened to me choosing the destination?”
His smile faltered. “Hmm?”
Someone from the hangar peeked out, camera in hand. Gemma ducked back into the car, as if she’d forgotten something. Her heart hammered, and she knew she should be furious, but all she could feel was roiling anxiety. She hadn’t packed. She didn’t have her things. He couldn’t just expect her to up and leave.
And yet he did, and instead of being furious, she was just disappointed. In him, yes, but mostly in herself.
She knew he was careless. He kept proving it over and over. He hadn’t paused to think whether she might need medication, whether she might have plans for today, whether she might just damn well want to wear her own clothing.
She could have gotten past that. Gently explained why this wasn’t the grand gesture he thought it was. That was the point of this trip, right? Showing him what he did that was problematic.
What really hurt was the lie. He’d been exceptionally clear that she would choose their destination… and then proceeded to plan it all himself.
Surprise!
She felt so damn defeated. But he’d promised her this writing getaway, damn it, and she wasn’t losing it because Mason was being Mason.
“Gemma?” he said, sounding concerned.
“All good,” she said as she backed out of the car, hoisting her almost-empty cup. “Wouldn’t want to forget this.”
She hefted her laptop bag and smiled for any cameras and let Mason lead her to the plane.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MASON
They were about to take off when Mason got a text from his coach, wishing him a good trip, telling him he deserved the break and to get his ass back on game day. Mason smiled at that… and then he got the next text.
It was from Dr. Colbourne, the team shrink.
Dr. Colbourne:Mason, you’ve been dodging my requests for a session for the past month
Dr. Colbourne:You know I don’t like to push the matter
Dr. Colbourne:But we really need to talk. Call me
He turned off his phone. He’d worry about that later. For now, he was focused on giving Gemma the vacation of her dreams.
He was resisting the urge to ask her where they were going. That would behissurprise. The vacation planner had teamed with a subcontractor they used to plan this sort of spontaneous trip, completewith prepacked luggage. He’d sent them his clothing sizes and photos of Gemma, and they’d packed everything needed for the trip Gemma had chosen, including coolers of the ingredients he needed to cook.
They were on the plane now. Gemma was quiet. Overwhelmed, he figured. He’d found the bag with her charger cords, to make sure they had the right ones. When he returned, she was settled in, her laptop case on the seat beside her. That was where he’d planned to sit but no worries. He’d just take the one across from her…
She had her feet on it, her laptop on her legs. Okay, well, she wanted to get some work done. That was fine. It was hard to talk on a plane anyway. He took a seat across the aisle from her.
A flight attendant from the terminal popped on then, explaining where they’d find drinks and snacks, as there wouldn’t be an attendant on the small plane. She offered champagne, and Mason was about to say no—it was barely eleven in the morning—but Gemma said, “Please,” and he seconded that.
The attendant filled two glasses and handed them out. As she deplaned, Mason leaned over the aisle, smiling, glass extended.
“To our little getaway,” he said.
Gemma didn’t even look his way. She just bottomed-up the glass, gulping half the contents. Then she set it in the holder for takeoff and returned to her work.
He blamed the engines for the fumbled toast. She hadn’t heard him. That was all.
