On the Way Down

Chapter Nineteen

I've been in plenty of airplanes in my life, but I hadn't set foot in a helicopter before tonight and didn't expect to. Helicopters in my Los Angeles life are associated with the LAPD airship buzzing my neighborhood from time to time, and news choppers circling when there's a major event somewhere in the vicinity. It wouldn't have occurred to me to book a city tour in one, nor was I aware night time views of Las Vegas from one were a thing until Phoenix filled me in on the reservation he made and drove us the short distance up the Strip to where the helicopter and its pilot awaited us.

While I'm a pro at airplane take-offs, the straight vertical climb of the helicopter is a new experience for me. The feeling of being pushed down into my seat causes a twirling in my stomach, and I close my eyes until it subsides. When I open them again, my breath catches at the sparkling sea of lights below me that stretch on for miles. The view of Las Vegas from a helicopter is infinitely more dazzling and panoramic than it is from a tiny airplane window, and I understand now how the city's lights are visible from space.

"That's the Sphere," I say, when I spy the enormous orb that's currently projecting images of glowing flames. Close by, an array of color-shifting lights illuminate the High Roller Ferris wheel. "Everything is so beautiful."

I turn my head to glance at Phoenix. He must have heard me through his headset, because he also shifts his gaze from the scene outside of the helicopter to me.

"Everything really is," he agrees. Especially you, he mouths, silent this time so only I catch the words. The same adoring look I saw in his eyes earlier this evening makes another appearance now.

Pure happiness melts away any remaining thoughts I had about what happened at Nebula tonight. Forget about Torin's irritation, and forget about whatever is going on between Ava and Nash. All that exists for me right now are the mesmerizing city panoramas, the almost weightless sensation I have as we soar over the Strip, my joy at being able to do this, and Phoenix.

"Look at the Strat tower from here," I marvel. It's the tallest observation tower in the United States, and the top of it is right outside the window. Off in the distance, I also glimpse the much shorter Eiffel Tower half-scale replica at Paris Hotel and point at it. "Look how it almost seems to shimmer. Can you imagine what the real one must look like from a helicopter?"

"We'll find out one day," Phoenix vows. "We'll go there and to the canals in Venice."

Our pilot probably thinks we're bantering about future plans, but the reminder of the canals brings me back to our conversation about Venice last weekend, and what Phoenix said about wishing he'd taken me. He sounds equally serious about a trip for him and me that also includes Paris. It isn't his vision of us traveling together in Europe on a romantic getaway that has me suddenly fumbling for words. It's the repeated promise within it that he's here for the long term this time and sees this as possible for us.

By the time we're back on the ground and on our way to where we parked, I'm enamored with life again. And when we're on the road and an ethereal song with a hypnotic beat plays through the speakers after Phoenix taps the center console a few times, I find myself sinking into my seat, relaxing as I listen. The music is a beat-driven dreamscape, but the lyrics are what capture my attention. It's as though the female vocalist has plucked some of the words she sings from my heart and mind. The others seem like they could be Phoenix speaking, based on things we've talked about since reconciling.

"What song is this?" I ask after several verses.

"'Move into Me' by Bad Sounds and Broods."

The immediate answer and his familiarity with it give me pause. Is the song a coincidence, or is it something he's given thought to and intentionally played for me? I study him in my peripheral vision.