Now it’s my turn to scoff before suggesting, “Maybe we’ll have to bring it top of mind then.”
Scarlett merely hums in response, and her nonchalance is somehow sexy as hell.
“We’re right here,” I tell her as I place my hand on her lower back to guide her into our row. “Do you prefer the window or aisle?” I ask her.
“Um—I-I’m not sure. I think window. If that’s alright with you,” she says hesitantly, her mood shifting to unease.
“I’m alright with whatever will make you most comfortable,” I tell her, offering her a gentle squeeze on her thigh once we’ve sat down, which I hope is reassuring.
As we fasten our seatbelts, I notice her hands trembling. When the captain tells the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for takeoff, Scarlett’s breathing becomes shuttered and her grip on the armrests tightens.
I lace my fingers through hers without thinking about it. Easing her worries is my only priority right now. “Eyes on me, Scar.”
She turns her head and I’m met with her stricken gaze. Forget frightened. Scarlett is terrified.
“What’s something no one else knows about you?” I ask, attempting to distract her.
“W-what?”
“Let’s play a game of twenty questions. Except instead of asking twenty questions to guess one correct answer, we ask each other twenty questions to get to know one another better. If we’re going to be married, I should probably know more about my fiancée.”
“Okay,” she agrees, shaking her head up and down almost as if she’s giving herself a silent pep talk. “Well one thing most people don’tknow about me is that I make seasonal bucket lists for me, Gemma, and Gunner to complete.”
A genuine smile spreads across my face picturing the three of them doing seasonal activities together that Scar planned. “That sounds fun. What is something you’re looking forward to crossing off your fall bucket list with the two of them?”
She takes a deep breath. “We haven’t gone to a pumpkin patch in years and I was hoping to go all out decorating for Halloween this year now that we’re at the new house. A few of the neighbors told me the entire neighborhood gets really into it and everyone votes to choose a winner for best decorations.”
“Do Gemma and Gunner like Halloween?”
“They love it, though Gunner gets scared of some of the costumes and decorations we’ve seen over the years. But this year he’s taken an odd liking to the scarier costumes. Like, he just told me he wants to be Pennywise. I told him absolutely not because I’m terrified of clowns.”
“So if a clown showed up at your office, that would be a bad thing?”
She gives me a scathing look that oddly puts me at ease, knowing it’s replacing her look of terror. Definitely storing that information away for later though.
“When do you see getting married falling on your bucket list?” I ask, looking down at our intertwined hands, a little bashful but curious to hear her answer.
“To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it until earlier this week.”
I hum in response before shooting her another question. “If you could get married anywhere, where would it be?”
“Paris. In the spring when the trees are in bloom.” Her answer comes without hesitation, and she has this far away look in her eyes.
“Hate to break it to you, Little Red, but you’re about to become the owner of an NHL team. Hopefully, we’ll be making a deep playoff runin the spring. We could have a summer wedding in Paris. Maybe we’ll have the cup on a table instead of a cake.”
“I didn’t say that’s wherewewould get married,” she clarifies. “That’s just been my dream since I was a little girl. My mother lived in Paris for a few years during the height of her modeling career.”
“And does she still live there? Your mother?”
“No, she passed away from complications following my birth. I only have secondhand stories and photographs of her. But every time I visited Paris growing up, I got this sense of everything feelingright. Do you have a place like that?”
The honesty of her answer surprises me. I wasn’t anticipating such a detailed answer, given the nature of her fear of flying.
“I’m not sure I do,” I admit, peering at her from the corner of my eye to find her eyes on me once again. Clearing my throat, I change my answer. “I suppose the ice. When I’m on the ice, I feel a sense of belonging—of peace—I don’t otherwise feel. It doesn’t matter if it’s a game, practice, or I’m just skating by myself, regardless of who is with me, I feel better on the ice.”
She playfully nudges my shoulder with hers. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got the career you do.”
“Doesn’t it make you angry that you’re not able to choose your career path now?” I ask.
