1. Remi

"The eye of a storm is calm and peaceful." ~ Tim Rhodes

"What's this?"I asked the airline attendant, who handed me a piece of paper as I disembarked the plane.

"It's an upgrade to first class and a drink coupon for the executive lounge. For your inconvenience," she explained.

"Oh, okay." My brow creased in confusion.

I got the ‘inconvenience' part. Due to bad weather conditions, we had to make an emergency landing at O"Hare and sat on the plane for over four hours before receiving instructions to exit and await instructions for a new flight. The only thing I didn't understand was why I hadn't noticed any of the other passengers get a slip while they were exiting the aircraft.

Her light amber eyes twinkled. "And my phone number."

I glanced down, and sure enough, her phone number was written on the top.

"Thanks." I held out the paper, trying to give it back to her. "I appreciate that, but I'm engaged."

She kept her hand at her side. "Just take it. You never know."

I did know. I'd been with my fiancée, Misty, for over eight years; and engaged for five. Still, I wasn't going to argue with her.

With a dip of my chin, I continued down the air bridge. A bolt of light flashed through the glass window. Rumbling thunder followed it a few seconds later. Rain pelted the metal tube we were all filing down. The platform shook beneath our feet due to sixty-mile-per-hour winds. This storm was not slowing down. Mother Nature was here to play.

The atmosphere inside the airport terminal was no less turbulent. The mood was tense as travelers all around me were on calls explaining their delays and frantically trying to get updates regarding their flights from airline employees who clearly did not have the information they sought.

I'd always been a pretty easygoing guy. Nothing really fazed me. I had one mode. Steady. It took a lot to get me upset, frustrated, or agitated. The only time I'd ever felt any of those emotions was when it came to my baby sister, Ruby. I'd always been fiercely protective of her.

From the moment my mom came home from the hospital with her when I was ten years old, and she put her in my arms, and I looked into her big blue eyes, I knew I'd do anything to keep her safe. Murder. Steal. Die. Whatever it took.

It had been a running joke with my friends growing up about how protective I was of her. They used to tease me that any guy who dared to speak to her was going to find himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. I never found it funny; just factual.

What I did find funny was that one of those same friends, who used to give me such a bad time, was marrying my sister in eight days. Luckily, he was one of the best men I knew, so a shotgun would not be needed. But there would be a wedding.

In a week's time, one of my oldest friends, Kane Kingston, was going to be exchanging vows with Ruby. The wedding party was a tad unorthodox, and not just because it challenged traditional gender roles. I would be standing next to my sister as her Man of Honor. And across from me would be Taylor, who was the best woman and the mother of Kane's five-year-old daughter Harper. I'd never met Taylor, but I hoped that we could all just be one happy family.

As I walked through the terminal, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, intending to call Misty, my fiancée, and let her know that I had no clue when I'd be arriving in California. My flight was supposed to get in tonight, and then we were supposed to fly to Texas together the day after tomorrow, but now I wasn't sure what was happening. I'd thought about calling her on the plane when we were sitting on the runway, but I'd decided to wait until I had something to tell her. When I looked down at the screen, I noticed that I had missed several calls from her, but the alert had been my Random Fact of the Day.

A few years earlier, I downloaded an app called DRF, which stood for Daily Random Facts. Which was exactly what it sounded like; each day, I was texted a random fact. The reason I had it was not a quest for arbitrary information. It was more personal. Each time I got the daily message, I felt like my dad was still with me, still a part of my life, even though he'd passed away when I was nine.

Tim Rhodes was an amazing father. He was funny, kind, hardworking, and a real man's man. Even eighteen years later, I missed him every day. One of the favorite memories I had of my dad was that he collected all the caps on Snapple bottles and would recite the facts printed on the inside of the caps all the time. He loved having random knowledge about so many different things. It was his party trick. So, these daily messages made me feel closer to him.

Today's random fact read: It's impossible to hum while plugging your nose.

I pinched the end of my nose and attempted to hum as I called Misty back. Both of my efforts were in vain. The call went straight to voicemail, and I was not able to hum with my nose plugged. I hung up and I tried her again, with the same result. Since I was unable to get through to her, I listened to the message.

"Hey, it's me." Her voice was thin and stressed. "Call me back as soon as you get this."

The fact that my baby sister was getting married before we were, when Ruby and Kane had only been together for a few months, appeared to have caused some tension between us. She'd brought it up several times with me. Or maybe it was because in the past six months, I'd only seen her for about four days, and that was a little over three months ago.

My job as a hotshot meant that I was gone a lot in the summer. But this year, I'd also attended a training course in Montana in the spring. Once fire season was over, I'd headed straight to Vermont for another training course.

Misty had been noticeably distant on the phone. Typically, when I was in the field, we FaceTimed for at least an hour every day, but lately, for the past couple of months, I'd been lucky to get her on the phone at all. Nearly all of our communication had been through texts.

As tough as the distance had been on us, there was now a light at the end of the tunnel. I was taking some much-needed time off until after the holidays. I had three months to make up for the time I'd been gone and finally start planning the wedding.

I tried her one more time before leaving a message and heading to the bar in the executive lounge that I now had access to, thanks to my upgrade. I wasn't really a drink-at-the-airport bar kinda guy, but I'd also never flown first class before and figured I might as well take advantage of the upgrade and the access it provided.

When I walked into the executive lounge, I wasn't sure what I'd expected to see, but I was surprised to see that it was crowded. It made sense, considering the entire airport was overflowing with people.

After a quick scan of my seating options, I saw that I only had one. There was a single high-back stool open at the far end of the bar. Pulling the straps of my carry-on duffle up on my shoulder, I weaved my way through the sea of passengers complaining about the delays and cancellations.

When I reached the empty seat, I did a double take at the woman to the right of the vacant stool. She was a dead-ringer for Ana de Armas, the actress I always used as my hall pass whenever Misty forced me to name someone. But I hated that game. I didn't see what was so fun about ‘pretending' that cheating was okay. It wasn't. Ever. It wouldn't matter to me if Aphrodite, reincarnated, tried to seduce me; it would never happen. I was raised better than that and had seen the consequences of cheating firsthand. After my dad died, my mom dated a string of losers who all cheated on her.

As I stood behind the vacant stool, I was mesmerized by the similarities in this woman's features. She had the same sweetheart-shaped face, large and luminous green eyes, and full red lips framed by silky brunette hair. I tried to look away but couldn't.

The Ana lookalike must have noticed that I was staring at her, because she looked up at me. When her eyes met mine, everything in my world shrank to a pinpoint view, all I could see was her. The entire bar disappeared, and all the sound around me muted.

All I could see and hear—all that existed—was the green-eyed, brunette beauty. My reaction took me by surprise, and I forced myself to snap out of the spell I'd so easily fallen under.

After clearing my throat, I asked, "Is this seat taken?"

As soon as the question left my mouth, I realized it sounded like a pickup line, but it wasn't. I actually did want to sit down.

"No," she replied as she moved a purse I hadn't noticed because it was the same deep red color as the stool. She placed the bag on top of a suitcase that had a very distinct pink and purple scale design. This woman had an air of class, grace, intelligence, and just overall having her shit together. Which made her luggage choice totally out of place and her even more intriguing somehow.

I shook off that thought as I pulled out the barstool, set my duffle bag on the floor next to her suitcase, and lowered onto the seat.

When I did, the bartender approached me. "What can I get you?"

After what had just occurred, I was rethinking whether getting a drink would be a good idea. I was feeling a buzz from a simple interaction. I didn't need alcohol to make me feel any fuzzier.

I decided on a safer option. "Just coke."

The bartender leaned forward, tilting his head so his ear was closer to me as he questioned, "Jack and Coke?"

"Just Coke."

He nodded and quickly filled my order, then set it in front of me. I handed him a ten-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. When he moved away, I took a drink, then set it back down and pulled out my phone in a calculated effort to ignore the gorgeous woman beside me.

Even though I wasn't sure what had just happened, I knew that I had no business indulging in it. I was engaged. Distraction and distance—that's what I needed to concentrate on.

I looked down at my phone and saw I had a Google Alert with a headline about my sister's upcoming wedding.

Broadway Star Ruby Sky Set to Tie the Knot in Hometown

That headline was a lot better than most had been this past year, after a video of her debut performance in Wicked had gone viral. After being an understudy for a year and a half, she finally got the call to the big show. She'd been nursing an injury at the time and was offered what she thought was an all-natural muscle relaxer, but it turned out to be molly. That, combined with the shot of vodka she'd taken for her nerves, resulted in her ending up in the E.R. after being dragged off the stage in the first act after she started stripping.

Ruby worked so hard her entire life to get to Broadway, and in one night, all her dreams came crashing down. The scandal cost her dearly. Within months, she was jobless and homeless. I'd been so worried about her that I'd almost skipped the course in Montana, but she'd insisted I go. I suppose it all worked out in the end. If none of that had ever happened, she would never have had to go back to our hometown, and she wouldn't be walking down the aisle to the love of her life in a week.

The fact that I didn't have to worry about her anymore outweighed any concerns I might have had about her hooking up with my best friend. Ruby lived with Kane, who was a six-foot-four cop who everyone in town—hell, the county—knew not to fuck with. In New York, she was alone, without any family, unprotected. That had cost me more night's sleep than I cared to admit.

As much as I tried to ignore the woman next to me, I couldn't help feeling her. Despite my efforts, I was acutely aware of her presence. It might sound insane, but I felt my breath sync with hers.

This was playing with fire, and I had no intention of getting burned.

I'd just made the decision to leave when she reached for the glass in front of her. I clocked the moment her knuckles tapped against my Coke and saw it begin to tip. My reflexes had always been fast, and on instinct, I reached out and managed to grab it before it spilled.

When I did, her hand was reaching out for it, too, and our hands were intertwined. We both froze, and our eyes met. The innocent contact sent a jolt of awareness shooting through my body. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and from the shocked look in her eyes, I had a feeling hers was doing the same.

At the same time, we both removed our hands from each other as if we'd touched a hot stove. Our gaze was still locked, and I noticed we were both breathing as if we'd just run an eight-minute mile.

Without saying a word, she stood and started walking away.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She glanced back over her shoulder, "Um, yeah, I just need… Can you watch my…" She waved her hand toward her suitcase beside mine.

"Yeah, sure." I nodded, feeling a little off-balance from the exchange.

It was like the moment we touched, my entire world tilted on its axis. Even though I knew I was only human and would obviously find people attractive, I felt like an asshole because I'd had such a visceral response to this stranger. I was engaged. I loved Misty. The world around me should not disappear when I look at another woman. My world shouldn't be shaken to its core by an accidental touch.

I sat staring down at the glass of water that had been the catalyst of this tectonic shift, contemplating how shitty I felt, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me."

I turned my head and saw a woman who, with her wavy white hair and rosy cheeks, could easily be cast as Mrs. Claus.

"Is someone sitting there?" She pointed to the empty stool beside me.

I stood and pulled out my stool for her. "Yes, but here you go."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no, I'm fine."

My phone, which I was still holding in my left hand, began to ring. I looked down and saw that it was Misty.

"Um, please, take my seat. I need to answer this, but could you watch these bags and save that seat for a woman in a green shirt?" A green shirt that matched her eyes perfectly.

"Of course, dear," she replied with a sweet smile.

"Hey." I turned and answered the call, but realized I couldn't hear anything. "Hold on one sec; I just need to get somewhere quieter."

I walked outside to the patio area off the bar, which was empty due to the weather. Thankfully, there was a tiny overhang that kept me out of the rain. When the door closed, I said, "Sorry about that. I've been trying to call you. I'm not sure when I'm going to get home. This weather is?—"

"I'm not going to your sister's wedding," Misty blurted out.

I hadn't been expecting to hear that, so it took me completely off guard. "Oh, okay. Are you okay? Are you sick?"

"I'm pregnant."

I stood silently, not sure how to process that news. Hearing she wasn't going to the wedding had been a shock, but the news she was pregnant was a bomb. We'd talked about having kids after we got married, but never any sort of specific timeline. Since we'd been engaged for five years, we clearly weren't great at timelines.

"Oh… um, are you sure?"

"I went to the doctor today. I'm eight weeks pregnant," she said as she sniffed.

"Eight weeks," I repeated as I tried to do the mental math.

I hadn't gotten much sleep the past four weeks because the training had been outdoors in the wilderness, and we weren't glamping. So, I knew I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders, but if I hadn't been home in over three months and she was two months pregnant, then…

"So, I'm not…"

"No. You're not the father."

If being pregnant was a bomb, me not being the father was a nuclear bomb.

"I'm sorry, Remi. I didn't want to tell you like this. I wanted to tell you when you got home before you flew out to Texas, but?—"

"Who's the father?"

"Jagger."

"From CrossFit?"

"Yeah."

Jagger Spence owned the CrossFit gym where I trained when I was home. He was a retired NFL player who, ironically, I'd introduced to Misty at my birthday party two years ago. I had no clue that they'd stayed in touch.

"Are you two…together?" I wasn't sure what I was feeling, but I did want to know if it was just a one-time thing. Maybe they ran into each other on a night out.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"We, um, we had a thing last summer, but I ended it. And then we started up again two months ago."

So not a one-time thing.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," she admitted as she broke down, sobbing. "I'm sorry, Remi. I'm so sorry, Remi."

I hated when women cried. Especially women I cared about. And despite this news, I did care about Misty.

"Okay." I wasn't exactly sure what to say. "Listen, I need to go."

"Are you okay? I mean, I know you're not okay, but…I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay. I'm fine. Don't stress. You shouldn't be stressing. I'll, um, I'll call you later. It's okay, really. Just take care of yourself."

I hung up the phone, looked through the glass into the bar, and saw her. She was back. I wasn't sure how I felt about the information I'd just learned, but I did know one thing. I no longer had to feel guilty for the attraction I'd felt for the green-eyed beauty I was staring at. Hell, I might even be able to act on it.