Sweet afternoons

Chapter Twenty

I hadn't realised, but my body was laced with fatigue. Leaning back against him, I felt my eyelids grow heavy and let the feeling consume me. Barely managing to nod my head in a reply, I let him guide me further down the bed so that we were laying with our heads on the pillow.

The turbulence felt like a soft rocking and before long I was lulled to sleep, waking a few hours later feelings far more refreshed. Perhaps days of worrying had taken more of a toll than I thought.

With only an hour left, the two of us returned to our seat in time for a young air hostess to arrive next to us. Her face was warm and friendly, the smile was all politeness. She mentioned that there was some turbulence due to the weather and asked us to put our belts on.

Although I hadn't been on a plane many times, this didn't worry me very much. Flying had never been on my list of fears and I'd always heard they were safer than cars. Andres, on the other hand, seemed to grow pale as the plane shook. His large hands grasped the armrests tightly, his knuckles turning ghostly white with the strength he was putting into it.

His eyes focused on his feet, hooded over with unclear emotions. I'd never seen him like this before. Afraid. It surprised me. Especially since the man hadn't mentioned anything to me about having a fear of flying.

Unsure what to do, I pried one of his hands from the armrest and pulled it into my lap. Once his palm was encased between my smaller one, I squeezed gently. Using my thumbs, I began to rub circles into his skin. It was only a small gesture, but from what I had experienced it was often effective in distracting someone.

Andres watched my movements curiously, no longer focusing on his feet. His hands unclenched slightly and I noticed the colour returning to his tan skin slowly. While the turbulence was undoubtedly still having an effect, I had managed to take the edge off enough to see him calm down.

Throughout our descent, I held his hand in between mine and didn't let go until we were back on the ground. His lips found my forehead as we left the plane, a silent thank you for my comfort. I wondered if his fear was something he was embarrassed about. It would explain why he didn't talk about it. If that was the case, I didn't want to push the matter and so didn't mention it.

Thankfully, being in England provided enough of a distraction to direct our conversation to other places. Heathrow Airport was busier than either of us expected and the hustle of people was hard to navigate, but there was excitement mixed in with the chaos.

Being back here was thrilling, in its own way. Andres, too, was intrigued to see what the new place would bring. He'd never visit England before and seemed to like the idea of seeing the place I had grown up. While it didn't hold many happy memories, I still appreciated it for being the place I spent my childhood.

"Have you got the address of the hospital your father is in?" Andres asked me quietly and we waited patiently for the car he had hired for us.

I shuffled through my bag until I came across my notepad. Inside I had written down the address as well as other hospital information my mother had sent me. Our short text exchanges had been formal and business-like, but I was secretly grateful that there was no forced affection. That would have made this entire thing so much more awkward to bear.

"I have it in here, but I don't have the hotel address. You never gave it to me," I said to the man, looking up at him with wide eyes. I still felt guilty about letting Andres book the hotel as well but tried not to think about it too much.

The tall man just smiled back at me. "Don't worry about that."

Before I could raise any questions, a sleek black car pulled up in front of us. It was expensive-looking, with tinted windows that made it impossible to see inside. My mouth gaped at the formality of it, having expected something similar to a taxi rather than a chauffeur. My head turned towards the man next to me, his guilty smile telling me that he had expected my reaction.