Chapter 15

I showup to the airport for the flight to Ian's wedding a day late and dollar short.

And only half of that is a metaphor.

Since my run in with Trinity at the engagement party, I've done my best to respect her wishes.

Anytime there was an event for the wedding party, I either skipped it entirely or made only the briefest of appearances. Thankfully, the event is small and low key, so there were only a few things on the schedule anyway.

I figured the hardest time to avoid her would be the plane ride, since Ian's assistant had booked us all in first class on the same flight.

So I moved my flight to a day later. Yes, I'd miss some of the pre-wedding relaxation time, but … well, let's be honest. An extra day of watching Trinity traipse around the beach in a swimsuit would probably kill me anyway.

You know what I didn't plan on?

I didn't plan on Trinity having the same idea.

Clearly, she did.

When I arrive at our gate at the Austin airport, I see her sitting there. Head down over an open iPad, her messenger bag at her feet. She's dressed in a pair of worn cargo shorts and a worn shirt with a picture of a hen on it that reads, "Cluck around and find out." Her only concession to our beach destination is that she's traded her Doc Martens for a pair of converse.

I had "Ian" send more clothes to her apartment last week, a bunch of outfits I had a personal shopper pick out for her that would be beach resort appropriate. Since I'm pretty certain that personal shopper would have died before sending her this outfit, I wonder if Trinity figured out the outfits were coming from me and not Ian.

Or maybe she just wanted to be comfortable on the plane.

I walk past where she's sitting and head straight for the gate counter. I had to pay nearly an extra thousand bucks to change my flight at the last minute. If I had to guess, Trinity didn't have that kind of money to spare. So she probably could only afford a ticket in coach.

I give the airline employee my most charming smile. "The lady sitting over there, Trinity Lewis— any chance you could tell me her seat number on the plane?"

The employee frowns at me in open suspicion.

"We're headed to the same destination wedding. Her sister, my best friend. I wanted to make sure she's in first class."

The woman's gaze softens. "What did you say her name was?"

"Trinity Lewis."

Her fingers fly across the keyboard and then she frowns as she looks back up at me. "I don't think I'm allowed to actually tell you where she's sitting."

"Is there an open seat in first class?" I slide my credit card across the counter. "If there is, I'd like to pay to upgrade her ticket to first class."

The woman rattles off the price, clearly expecting me to balk. I give the card another nudge in her direction. "Don't worry. I'll make the groom cover it." I toss in a wink to mask my obvious lie.

Yes, Ian would insist on paying if he knew, but it's not like I'm going to tell him.

If the airport employee thinks it's odd that I'm paying to upgrade Trinity's ticket but haven't greeted her, she doesn't say anything. A few minutes later, while I'm sitting in the waiting area with my laptop open reviewing some emails, I overhear Trinity getting called to the service desk and informed that she's been upgraded to first class.

An hour later, I'm tucked away in my first class window seat when Trinity stops on my row and clears her throat. I glance up to see her glaring at me with her hands on her hips.

"Was this you?" She waggles the paper ticket she was given at the service desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's good to see you."

"Right." She snaps out the words sarcastically before sliding into the seat next to mine. "I was seriously moved up to first to sit right next to you. And you don't know what I'm talking about."

My eyes flicker closed for a second. Damn it.

"Yes, I got your seat upgraded. I didn't think she'd seat you next to me."

"Why?"

"Just didn't occur to me. She must've thought I was upgrading you so that you could sit next to me." I reach up and hit the call button. "Let's see if they've got anything else open. Or I can move back to your original seat in coach."

"No. I meant why upgrade my seat at all." She reaches up and pushes the call button again, turning it off. "It's not a big deal. Just unexpected."

"No. You said you wanted to avoid me and it looks like we both tried to avoid each other by changing our flights. And now I've made things worse." I reach up and hit the call button again.

Trinity sighs and hits the call button for a fourth time. "It's okay. Really." She gives a half chuckle. "I guess we are both trying to do the right thing."

"Ian would've wanted you in first class."

"It doesn't matter. I've never flown first class in my life. Coach on this flight is already so much nicer than the budget airlines I usually fly on."

Before I can respond, airline attendant bustles over. "What do you guys need?" he asks with an ingratiating grin. "Can I get you some champagne to start with?"

Before I can ask whether there's another seat I can move to, Trinity responds. "Two gin and tonics."

"Got it. Singles or doubles?"

At the same time, Trinity and I both say, "Double."

We're both quiet for several minutes while the attendant gets our drinks. I watch Trinity while she fidgets, getting her belongings situated where she wants them for the flight.

She seems better than she did at the engagement party. Less tense. A little more thoughtful. Maybe even less sad. That's good. I don't want her angry at me. I don't want her hurt. I just want?—

Well, I just want her. But in lieu of that, I want her to be happy. Jesus, I sound like I'm trying to write a graduation card for her or something equally asinine.

"Thank you," she says, almost so softly I don't hear it and without looking up from her iPad that she's fiddling with.

"Don't worry about it. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll just make Ian pay for upgrading your flight," I lie.

"That's not… I meant for the dress."

"Ah." So the gig is up.

She slants a look at me from under her eyelashes. "And the other clothes. You didn't have to do that."

"I never said I did do it."

She ignores my dodge. "Were you afraid I would embarrass Ian?"

For a moment, I can only gape. Then I laugh. "Embarrass Ian? First off, most of the people in that room made their wealth in the tech industry over the past decade, which means most of them have solidly middle class backgrounds. And most of them are in tech. That means they barely notice what they're wearing, let alone what someone else is wearing. You could've worn an actual potato sack and he never would've noticed. I don't think he's ever noticed anyone's clothing in his entire life, and that was before he met Savannah and all other women ceased to even exist for him. So no, I didn't do it because I was afraid you would embarrass Ian. Or anyone else for that matter before you can ask."

A smile ghosts her lips and she says softly, "It is pretty adorable how in love with her he is. I always wanted my big sister to find someone who sees how amazing she is. And she did."

Adorable. Right.

God, I wonder how she would react if she knew how obsessed I am with her. Would she find that adorable too, or would it send her running for the hills.

"So if you didn't do it for Ian, then why?"

By now the plane is taxiing down the runway. I take a sip of my drink and stare out the window for a minute before trying to put my reasoning into words. "I didn't grow up in this world."

"This world?" she asks.

"First class. Destination weddings to private islands in the Caribbean. Elaborate engagement parties in fancy restaurants."

She nods as if she sees my point. "What world did you grow up in?"

"A tiny town in west Texas where everything reeks from the oil refinery. Free lunches at school, drunken uncles who shoot beer bottles off the fence on holidays."

She's silent for a moment then nods. "I never would've guessed."

"Exactly." I wonder how much more to say. I don't want her to feel self-conscious.

"Okay, but that's not really an answer though. About why you bought me the dress."

I shrug. "I remembered you felt self-conscious about your outfit when we ate there together. I know what that feels like. That feeling of not fitting in. Having the clothes to fit in helps."

"The first time we ate at Le Petit Bistro, I had chicken shit on my pants. And an actual chicken on my lap." She makes a face of mock outrage. "Did you think I was going to bring one of my chickens?"

I chuckle at the image. "No. I just didn't want you to have to spend money a grad student doesn't have to buy yourself something pretty."

"Savannah would have paid for my dress if I asked her to."

"Sure." I pin her with a look. "But did you ask her to?"

Her gaze darts away from mine. "Well, thank you."

I nod in acknowledgement, even though I'm not sure she gets what I was trying to say.

"When Cookie Jar went public, my whole world flipped upside down. Not unlike the way your life has been flipped upside down with Savannah marrying Ian. If having the right clothes to attend an event will make you more comfortable, you should use that as a crutch. I know I did."

"I'm not sure I follow. Why when Cookie Jar went public? Is that when Ian hired you?"

It takes me a beat to figure out that she hasn't put it together yet. I don't know why that surprises me, but it does. There are some people who google a person the moment they meet them and track down their net worth like they're on a scavenger hunt. There's a world of business deals and economic machinations where that's considered socially acceptable.

I had forgotten that Trinity isn't part of that world. She comes from the world of academia and it's not like I have any papers published. Either that or she's one of the rare people who doesn't consider someone else's net worth any of their business.

"I met Ian in college. He developed Cookie Jar without venture capital. When I did things for him like filing patents and articles of incorporation, he paid me in stock options." When she still doesn't seem to get it, I lay it out for her bluntly. "When he took the company public, he owned nearly 60 percent of it. I owned the other 40 percent."

"Oh." She sinks back in her chair and stares forward, dazed. "Oooooh." She laughs. "For the life of me I couldn't figure out how an intellectual property lawyer could afford a condo with that view." Then she twists in her chair and swats my arm. "And you let me keep my chickens in your closet overnight."

I nearly chuckle at how horrified she sounds. "You're getting a little lost in the weeds there."

"No. I get it. You owe everything to Ian."

Maybe she really does get it. Still, I add, "Ian is special."

"Yeah, I get it. Nonprofessional assessment would be: on the spectrum with possible sensory disorders. In addition to an above average IQ."

"Do you do that with everyone you meet?"

She arches an eyebrow. "Make the assessments like that?"

I nod.

"Professional hazard. But obviously, it's frowned upon. We're not supposed to go around diagnosing our friends and family.

"Obviously."

"But with someone like Ian, it's pretty obvious."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"Ian's ‘diagnosis'?" I put the word in air quotes.

She frowns. "Why would it?"

I have to choke down my own feelings about Ian to ask the hard question. "His personality quirks can be hard to overlook. Even given how rich as he is. That kind of thing bothers some people."

"Well, some people are idiots, aren't they?" She rolls her eyes. "He makes her insanely happy. He spoils her in a way no one ever has."

Her clear impatience with my description of Ian eases some of my anxiety. "He's not exactly what everyone would want for their sister."

She nods in mock seriousness, but I can see the sparkling in her eye. "Oh no, you're right. Rich and handsome is definitely at the bottom of the list of everyone's dream guy requirements."

Okay, she has me there. "You know what I'm saying. People on the spectrum have a reputation for being difficult. Persnickety. Emotionally distant. My point is, Ian isn't some suave, perfect romance novel hero."

She twists in her seat to give me a hard look, her tone is accusatory when she asks, "Is that what you think of him?"

"Hey, he's my best friend. And whether it's my job or not, I look out for him. I take care of him. Not everyone is welcoming to people who are different from them. There were people in college who made fun of him. Now that he's rich, there are people who try to take advantage of that. Do you blame me for wanting to be sure that your sister is as all in as he is?"

This time she seems to consider my point a little more seriously. "First off, a lot of the things you mentioned are stereotypes. Cultural misunderstandings. Or true for some people on the spectrum and not for others. Besides, I'm not at all worried about Ian being emotionally distant with Savannah. Have you seen them together?" Her eyes lose focus as she gets lost in thought. "She's his person. And he's hers. That's what matters."

Her gaze jerks back to mine and, just like that, I can feel myself getting lost in her eyes. In the intimacy of the moment. Hearing her talk about the kind of love she wants for her sister, I'm struck all over again by how drawn I am to this woman. I could sit and listen to her talk for hours, getting lost in the way her mind works. The way she cares for others. The way she looks beneath surface.

It's a three-hour flight to Belize, but I find myself wishing that would last longer. Days. Maybe my whole life. Because I could spend forever just listening to her talk.

Okay, not just listening to her talk. If conversation was all she ever offered me the rest of my life, I would find a way to be at peace with that, but I'm not a saint. It's not all I want from her. Not by a long shot. I want to touch her again. To fall asleep with her in my arms. I want to taste her again and to fuck her. To make love to her.

Even more than that, I want to choose her. I want to put her first. Something I've never wanted before.

It's something I've never allowed myself to want. But what she just said, about how Savannah is Ian's person …

I've spent my entire adult life taking care of Ian. Yes, we're best friends now. But it wasn't friendship when we first met. In a school as big as UT, I knew he needed someone to look out for him. I was his roommate so it made sense to me to do it.

Don't get me wrong, Ian would've been fine without me. Isolated. Alone, but fine.

Still, I took it upon myself to watch out for Ian. Take care of him. Make sure he had some small semblance of a social life and ate meals on a semi-regular basis.

What started as an obligation for me, turned into genuine fondness. I love the guy like a brother. I'd take a bullet for him, and all that nonsense. Then, he made me rich beyond my wildest dreams, and friendship and obligation once again muddied together. Our lives have been intertwined my entire adult life.

And now, in the plot twist, no one saw coming, Ian is getting married. He found, to use Trinity‘s phrase, his person. The rope that has been our lives is unraveling, forcing me to face the fact that he doesn't need me anymore.

For the first time, I wonder if he ever needed me. Maybe I needed someone to watch out for. My dad died of an overdose not long before I went off to college. After a lifetime of feeling like I had to "be the man in the family" to make up for my dad's failings, and also having to take care of him when he couldn't take care of himself, maybe I was just … lost. More lost than Ian ever was.

Whether he needed me to watch out for him or not, it's what I've been doing since we met.

What will my life look like now that Ian doesn't need me? Or rather, now that I don't feel like he needs me? These are questions I hadn't asked myself before.

But sitting here next to Trinity, I can imagine the future I would pick for myself.

Almost as if she can sense the shift within me, Trinity turns to look at me and says, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being so suspicious earlier. And, for being kind of a bitch at the engagement party."

"You don't have to apologize for that. You weren't."

Everything she's done has been justifiable. Every time she accused me of being cold and withholding, she was absolutely right. I have been holding back.

"And, since I'm already apologizing: I'm sorry for basically being a hot mess every time we've met." She gives a self-deprecating laugh. "You and I have had the shittiest timing. I promise, I'm not always an incompetent, sobbing idiot."

"I never thought you were. Even when you were crying, you never seemed incompetent. You're smart and sensitive. Maybe a little overwhelmed. You've had a rough couple of years."

"True. And now, thanks to you, things are back on track." She goes quiet for a moment. "As annoyed as I was to find myself sitting next to you, maybe this has been good. this chance to talk. To clear the air."

I couldn't agree more. And not just because it's cleared the air between us, but because it's given me a whole new perspective on what I want from my future.

"And now, we can just be friendly," she adds. "If we happen to run into each other, or have to interact because of Ian and Savannah. We can be friends without it being weird."

It takes a second for her words to sink in. Friends? Does she honestly think we can just be friends?

If that's what she thinks, she's got another thing coming.

But, if she needs to pretend we can be friends for the rest of the flight, I'll let her do that. But once we get off the plane, I only have a few days to convince her otherwise.