Plus One

Chapter Twenty-Three

The airplane cabin was dark and quiet. Night had descended and most of the passengers were asleep. Sophie walked slowly up and down the aisle, her joints still stiff from the accident in Spain. Only five hours had passed since she'd boarded the plane which meant she had ten more to go.

She was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a cashmere sweater, a gift from Lila, since all of Sophie's clothing had been lost in the Tate.

Sophie stopped at the curtain between first class and coach, stretching. She could see Ian's light at the end of the row where he was reading a newspaper. So many times she'd wanted to crawl into his lap and let him hold her like he had done after the earthquake. But she had to stop coming when he called. She had to stop being his plus one.

The wounds were deep but she wasn't stupid: she loved him. She was having his baby. He—miraculously, it seemed—loved her. They should be together. She didn't doubt his love, but she wished he'd been more noble about the whole Elise Warner thing. It hurt, knowing he had—briefly—made the choice and that his own father had had to talk him out of it. She did a few more stretches, then walked back to her first class seat that was reclined beside Ian's. He looked up when she came back.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just sore from the accident."

She lay back down, facing away from him. She fell asleep for an hour or so and when she woke up, Ian was asleep. She gently took his newspaper and put it on the tray, turned off the reading light, then covered him with a blanket. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. His eyes opened. She pulled back, too late.

His smile was tender. "Caught you," he murmured, reaching out to caress her face.

She felt lightheaded when he looked at her like that. Touched her. Ian sat up and pulled her toward him and she let him. When his lips met hers it was their hearts colliding. This was not a polite kiss or a gentle one —it was a ravishing kiss with heat and desire, tongues and lips and teeth. She had to force herself not to moan, never mind that they were on a plane full of people.

Ian pulled away. "I missed you so fucking much," he whispered.

She leaned her forehead on his shoulder and he brushed back her hair. Sophie didn't want to go back to those nights alone in her room after Spain, weeping because she wanted him so much and he was never going to be hers.

"We have a lot of decisions to make," he said quietly.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Sophie still felt that she would need space to process everything. When she was with Ian he was all that mattered. And he couldn't be. There was a child to think of, the future.

"I want to take it slow," she said, sitting back up to look at him.

"Okay. What does that mean?"

"It means that no matter how badly I want to sleep with you, I won't. Not until you've taken me on a proper date and...I don't know...wooed me."

He grinned. "Then woo you I shall."

She played with a loose thread on his sweater. "Being your plus one made me feel...like a call girl. I don't know how long it will take to shake that feeling."

"I never saw you that way."

"I know. But I did. Your brother did."

"My brother's a bastard and always will be. Don't ever listen to a word that comes out of his mouth. I'm not bringing our kid within ten feet of him."

She smiled. She liked the sound of those words: our kid.

"You have to take all the money back," she said.