Her eyes flit across my face then close again. “Then why are you so good-looking?”
The flight attendant snickers as she stands. “I think she’s coming to.”
“You're leaving?” I watch as she picks up her medical bag. “I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet. She’s not even coherent.”
“Because she called you good-looking?” The woman playfully taps my shoulder. “Trust me, honey, she’s coherent. I’ve nicknamed you McHottie in my mind.” Then she walks off, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll come back and check on you in a minute.”
McHottie?Why do I feel scandalized by that?
My eyes drop to Camila, currently resting her head in my lap with closed eyes.
Objectively speaking—from a non-spousal point of view—she’s very beautiful. A pillow of wild, dark curls surrounds her face, falling past her shoulders. Prominent cheekbones. Freckles across the bridge of her nose. Long lashes. Full lips. I’d keep noticing all the nuances that make up her beauty, but she speaks, making me feel like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“That was scary.”
I laugh. “For you and me both.”
Her lips twitch, but there’s no other response.
After a few minutes, the flight attendant comes back with a wide smile. “Can I get you anything?”
“Can you bring some water for when she’s ready to sit up?”
“You’re so thoughtful. I should’ve nicknamed you McDreamboat instead. Maybe I’ll pretend to be sick so you’ll take care of me too.” There’s a wink before she walks away.
“She’s hitting on you.” I glance down at Camila. A half smile plays across her lips.
“What?”
“The flight attendant. She’s flirting with you. You should ask her out.”
“I’m kinda busy right now.” My smile matches hers.
“You saved my life. You should at least be able to get a date out of it. Ask her out.” She moves to sit up.
My hands hold her shoulders, supporting her in case she falls back. “I don’t think we’re ready for this.”
“Why? Because you just met?” She turns her head to the side, meeting my gaze. It’s the most alert I’ve seen her.
“I meant, I don’t think we’re ready for you to sit up.”
“We’re?”
“Yeah, you and me. We’re in this together. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh.” I’m on the edge of my seat, watching her smile grow, hoping a flicker of a memory will come to the front of her mind.
“How do you feel?”
“Better.” Her head tilts. “Woozy, but better. I prefer to sit instead of lying in the aisle.”
“What? You’re not a fan of the disgusting airplane carpet?”
Her lips curve again. “I’m terrified of it.”
“In that case, let's get you to your seat.” I wrap my arm around her waist and gently lift her to her feet.
“It’s fine. I can do it myself.”
