Summary: Luke talks about the plane ride to Dallas
Warnings: Lukeness to the nth degree
Disclaimer: Still not mine after all of these years.
A/N: Inspired by 5/2/14 Fun Fic Friday prompt, “Watching.”
Sometimes when I wake up before Reid, I like to look at him for a while. And not just because he’s beautiful, but because I like seeing him relaxed. Reid doesn’t relax enough, which is something I’m working on.
Uhm, not that he knows that. He wouldn’t like it if he knew I had an agenda like that when I suggest we go away for the weekend or when I choose not to go to a family dinner or…well, anyway, you get the picture.
It’s not that Reid doesn’t appreciate me taking care of him, it’s just that he doesn’t always want to know about it. Does that make sense? Probably not, but that’s how it is.
I’ve always noticed Reid and wanted to care for him. I didn’t recognize that at first. I know that sounds like a love at first sight kind of thing but I didn’t let myself look at him that way.
When we met I was clearly involved with Noah and I thought I was still in love with Noah. I wasn’t but I was determined to try my best to keep the relationship going even though it wasn’t exactly good for me.
Amazingly, it was love at first sight for Reid. Even as I say that I almost can’t believe it. Especially since I treated him so badly to get him to come to here. I’m still not especially proud to say took Damian’s advice and black-mailed him. I’m lucky that Reid has long since forgiven me for that.
When my emotions are in charge of my common sense, I’ll just do about anything to get what I want. Sometimes that works out well for me and at other times, not so much and I end up hurting myself and other people.
What I wanted then more than anything else was for Noah to see. I thought I had blinded him, I felt responsible for the accident and I believed that I had the sole responsibility of fixing everything.
It certainly didn’t help that Noah also believed that version of events too and never took any responsibility for his condition. He blinded himself. I…I don’t feel bad saying that anymore.
So I’m working on trying to stay calm and focus more logically on problems now, like Reid does. I mean, I know I’ll never be like him, I’ll never be able to turn life into a Rubic’s cube to be solved with a few purposeful twists of my wrists, because I think life is a lot more complicated than that.
Sometimes Reid thinks things are much simpler than they actually are. Well, that, and sometimes he acts like a petulant teenager when he doesn’t get his way. It usually cracks me up when he gets like that.
But that’s another story. Getting back to watching Reid, I know I hurt him because I couldn’t return his feelings for him at first but I don’t think I could have behaved any differently. The good thing is anytime I express guilt about that, Reid metaphorically cuffs me on the head and tells me to “shaddup.”
Just saying that makes me smile. Reid takes care of me.
Anyway, when I first met him in person after a few weeks of talking on the phone, I remember sticking my hand out to shake his and how he looked at my extended hand with complete distain.
I wasn’t at all surprised by his good looks. I had seen his picture enough when I read up about him. In his photos, Dr. Reid T. Oliver had struck me as really handsome but back then, I just wasn’t interested.
But his good looks were in direct opposition of his good manners. Meaning, he didn’t have any. And yup, we’re still working on those.
And instead of being immediately hurt by that, I thought it was funny. But that feeling only lasted a moment before I felt anger at his rudeness.
Believe me, that was not my normal reaction to someone being so incredibly impolite to me. My normal reaction would have been to just be angry, but to hide that anger by being ultra-polite, to try to “kill ‘em with kindness” to get them to like me.
But I didn’t. I didn’t try to get Reid to like me and I certainly didn’t defer to him that much and what he wanted. Honestly, when we first met, I didn’t think at all about Reid’s feelings. My focus was one-thousand percent on getting Noah better.
Later, when I reexamined this encounter in my mind, I noticed that in spite of my anger, I hadn’t been hurt, that I hadn’t felt humiliated, and that the over-whelming feelings I had experienced were truly amusement and anger at the same time.
I had never felt that particular combination of emotions before.
So yeah, I noticed Reid, if noticing meant he evoked reactions and feelings in me that were distinctive, easy to separate from my other feelings. You know, like when you’re looking for that perfect stone to skip over the water? Just one touch of your fingers and you know which ones are smooth and cool and will skip like crazy.
And sometimes Reid brought out feelings in me that were just as exhilarating and light and joyful as watching a stone skim and dip over water.
Other times, Reid brought out more heated feelings in me that were almost savage in their intensity, making me feel out-of-control but…strangely and divinely not necessarily in a bad way.
And yes, I’m using that word because even though I’m not particularly religious, my Grandma Emma has convinced me that there was some amount of God’s grace involved in our getting together. Every time she says something like that, Reid snorts but he doesn’t say anything scathing about her beliefs. He doesn’t want to be cut off from getting her pies.
So sometimes I would walk away from Reid feeling upset but not necessarily in a bad way. I just felt…completely alive, the surface of my skin crackling and my brain working on dissecting what Reid had just said in a way I never had before.
“That Dr. Oliver,” I would think, “He's such a jerk!”
But then I would smile. See? Everything I experienced with Reid was unique. He definitely intrigued me.
In the very beginning of getting to know him, I never understood why I felt such disparate emotions around Reid, why I felt like falling apart with feeling around him while he remained seemingly impassive and unmovable. It’s just like I could never really understand how I could make a stone skip over the surface of the pond by contorting my shoulder and hand just so, but there it was.
And there was Reid.
As I got to know Reid better, I understood how emotional he was. And I admit it, once I figured that out I liked to poke at him, to take a sharpened blade of words against his closed edges and see what I could pry open.
I was thrilled when he showed me things, even when he thought he was being careful.
I could tell by the bark and pitch in his voice, by the light in his eyes, by the way he breathed with just the slightest extra effort that I had gotten in.
His inability to hide from me filled me with…with…I think it was confidence.
Reid was always real with me – except when he was jealous but again, that’s another story - and that gave me something, a something I could call my own and build upon.
You know when I watched him the most intently before we got together? I know you would probably think it was after Noah’s surgery, when I freaked out and thought demolishing “Dr. Oliver” and all the absolutes he represented would somehow right all the wrongs that had rained upon Noah and me, back when I still thought in terms of “Noah and me,” back before I knew the kind of love I have with Reid and how that kind of love…okay, instead of just going on and on, I’m going to quote from one of my favorite love poems.
Don’t worry, it won’t be a long quote. And I really don’t sit around reading guys like Rilke and Shelley and honestly? I don’t read poetry all that much. I like novels a lot better.
But I had to take a couple of classes when I went back to college with a poetry focus and I didn’t completely hate them. And every once in a while, I’ll remember a line or two from a poem that really struck me in class.
Anyway, when I think about Reid and the love that I know with him, I think of the one by e.e. cummings, “Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond,” or something like that. I can’t quote the whole thing but I really remember the last two stanzas:
nothing which we are to perceive in this world
equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
And opens: only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands
That line about “the voice of your eyes…” Wow. That’s some good stuff. And “…your intense fragility…” always makes me think of Reid.
I wish I could be half that clever and inventive when I wrote.
The best I could do when I was trying to write a love poem about Reid couldn’t come near that. I remember being inspired and I wrote:
now I know the depths and curves and winds of a love so deep
it cannot be named
now I allow myself to breathe and be my own man
It’s not great, I know. But you know what? With Reid I am my own man.
I’m not with Reid because I need to be, like I was when I was with Noah and I thought being part of a couple was better than being alone.
I’m with Reid because I want to be.
I’ll say it again: I’m with Reid because I want to be.
Now that I say that, I’m remembering a little more from that love poem I wrote. I know I’m quoting myself a lot but, why not? I struggled to write about my feelings for Reid – I’m much better at talking about them.
Here’s another part of it:
there’s a world, a yawning, wide chasm between
want and need
continents and waterfalls and scorching deserts and thin air and ice and all things terrible and wonderful.
and want is the greater thing
I’m laughing right now because I can’t remember most of the really great love poem by cummings but I sure as heck can remember most of the mediocre one I wrote.
But I should get on with my story.
So the first time I caught myself watching Reid and noticing myself watching Reid, we were on the plane to Dallas. We were flying toward an uncertain future and Reid was frightened.
I knew he was frightened of the small, enclosed space. Even in the comfortable luxury afforded by Grandmother’s jet, I knew Reid was feeling out of his skin, that the anxiety of being enclosed gnawed away at him, at his ability to think of how to best present to the Texas Medical Board and save his license.
After we had settled in and Reid had looked around and made disparaging comments about all the decorative items I was used to and didn’t really notice anymore, like the maple wood paneling, the butter-soft leather seating, the series of Kandinsky lithographs, and the perfectly preserved - and more expensive than the plane itself although I’m sure Reid didn’t know that and if he did, he never would stop talking about the ridiculousness of that - Shang Dynasty Jade statuette, he quickly became unfocused and unsure of himself.
I had seen him in that state once before, when we were in an elevator together. It was fascinating but this time I had no urge to make fun of him. This time I wanted to immediately comfort him.
I looked at Reid’s hands and I had a thought that they were exquisite, perfect, the fingers long and tapered, the skin not quite alabaster but a milky shade that I found very pleasing.
At that moment, Reid’s hands were gripping the arm rests fiercely, his breathing was uneven and he was starting to sweat. I felt a surge of protectiveness and an over-whelming desire to help him.
Rather than think it through, I tapped the hand closest to me. I did notice that the golden tone of my own skin looked good next to his. That was a strange thing for me to think about and I immediately pushed it out of my mind. But I do remember thinking that.
“What?” he ground out.
I suppressed a smile. I didn’t stop to think why Reid’s natural grumpiness amused me. I wanted to stay focused on helping him.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“I packed my book in my luggage and now I need a way to pass the time. Do you want to play a game with me? I play a lot with my brother and sisters so I’ve got all sorts of stuff like Life, Clue, Boggle, Scrabble and some other board games. Or if you have something you like better on your phone—“
He interrupted me with one of his classic put-downs:
“Mr. Snyder, I know your powers of observation are limited but even you should know that I am not a little girl, therefore I am not amused by games.”
I rolled my eyes at him, “Not a little girl, check. But I’m bored and you’re freaking out. Come on, Dr. Oliver, let me distract you from any bad feelings – you might just find yourself having fun.”
“I am not freaking out,” he clipped out, sticking one of those perfect fingers under his collar to try and loosen it. “You know I don’t like small spaces, I’ll be fine once this rust-bucket gets us there. Jesus, for a private jet it’s just as shitty as commercial one. And—Mr. Snyder, are you staring at my hair?”
I had noticed before that it was curly, of course I had. But we were in close quarters and I couldn’t help looking at it more intently. Underneath the soft interior lighting, it looked darker. I knew there were different shades of red in it as well as a few blond crisps at some of the ends.
I loved the different colors of Reid’s hair, although I didn’t know it back then. After all, I had known other red-heads but before meeting Reid, I had never noticed how flattering a hair color it was. On Reid, it made him incredibly handsome.
I didn’t mind thinking he was handsome, I knew it was okay to look at other guys, that was fine as long as you didn’t act on it. And Reid would never, ever be interested in a guy like me, so I was completely safe in finding him attractive.
And I was with Noah, so I would never act on it and like I said, I thought Reid would never think of me that way, so it was strangely easy to be around him and think of him as good-looking.
So yeah, I was staring at his hair and noticing just how curly it was. Underneath those lights, there was a chiaroscuro-type of emphasis on every curl. They looked out-lined, that’s the only way to describe it. It was almost as if his hair had been chiseled out of stone by Michangelo, making Reid appear…angelic and otherworldly.
It was hypnotizing.
I didn’t realize I had been staring so intently until he said that I was. And then I realized that I had been gripping my phone extra hard in an effort not to reach out and touch them.
“Oh, god,” I thought, “What is wrong with me?”
I had been on a mission to help Reid feel better and I had been completely distracted by his hair.
“Do you want a drink?” I blurted, fumbling around for some way to help him and feeling embarrassed at being caught, “We have everything on board, scotch, whiskey, beer, whatever you’d like.”
I’m going to take a moment to point out that there has never been a time when Reid’s drinking has bothered me. Not that Reid drinks a lot, he doesn’t, he just likes a beer or two now and then or wine if we’re having dinner with my family.
Oh, but then there are those nights when Damian’s in town. Damian doesn’t visit too often but when he does, he and Reid sort of have a thing where they like to sit around and get a little drunk.
Damian brings me Kinnie, a non-alcoholic drink popular in Malta that I like a lot but he and Reid knock back home-made savina laringina.
That sweet smelling, orange stuff is brewed by Gulia, the woman who was basically Damian’s nanny and is now his main house-keeper. I think she makes it extra strong because after only one glass of it, Reid has his arm around Damian’s shoulder and they’re having an intent, if not slightly rambling, conversation. It’s wonderful and kind of disturbing.
What I want to make clear is that Reid always has treated me like I’m strong, like I’m normal, like my alcoholism isn’t something I have to hide. He understands that it’s something I have to conquer each and every day, with some days being a lot more challenging and exhausting than others. He’s proud of me and he makes sure I know it and that everyone in my family knows it. Sometimes he tries to make up for the mistakes they made, just like I do with him.
But as I said earlier, that’s another story.
So even though I didn’t quite understand it then, I somehow knew I wouldn’t mind being on the jet with Reid having a drink or two. I wouldn’t even be tempted – I just wanted him to relax. Wanting Reid to be comfortable and okay was a much, much stronger pull than my addiction.
I’m smiling right now because I’m remembering that back then, I didn’t call him “Reid.” I called him “Dr. Oliver.” And he didn’t call me “Luke,” he called me, “Mr. Snyder.”
Now you’re going to laugh – it was really sexy, practically foreplay. Sometimes even now Reid will lower his voice, kiss me and murmur, “Mr. Snyder,” in my ear and the meaning and promise in that goes right to my – well, I think you know what I mean.
Wow. I’m really getting off-track here, aren’t I? Okay, let’s go on. So after I offered him a drink on that plane ride, our conversation went something like this with Reid saying, “What are you, a cruise-director? Take it down a notch, will you? I’m fine, Mr. Snyder, just fine and I’ll be even better if you leave me alone.”
I don’t think Reid noticed that he was a little more relaxed, that his exquisite fingers were gripping the arm-rest a little less fiercely as we talked.
I knew from before that talking was a good distraction for Reid, so if he didn’t want to play a game or drink, I could do that.
“I don’t remember the very first time I was in a plane,” I began, again without thinking much. I seemed to be developing the habit of acting impulsively around Reid. I slogged on, “Because I was just a baby and my parents were taking me to visit some relatives, you know, to show me off.”
Reid rolled his eyes and snorted, but didn’t say anything.
“But the first time I remember flying, I was five. And it was just my Dad and I. He was taking me to a horse farm in Kentucky for a buying trip. Looking back on it now, I think he took me along because he and mom were having problems and he just wanted to take me away from that. I mean, how do you make a good assessment on a horse if you’ve got a little kid underfoot?”
“Especially one as quiet as you,” Reid slipped in. He was trying to sound exasperated but I could tell he was a bit amused.
“Anyway, we were going on a small plane like this, except commercial and a lot more crowded. Puddle-jumpers, you know what people call them. Anyway, I was kind of scared. I wasn’t scared of flying, that wasn’t it. I was scared of going to the bathroom.”
“Anyway,” Reid imitated me as if I were a twelve-year old girl - I do repeat words sometimes when I talk and I’m a little nervous - “Are we seriously going to talk about your childhood bathroom habits now? This has got to be a new low.”
I ignored Reid’s sarcasm and noted that his hands were smoothing out the fabric of his pants now, but not in a frantic way, but rather in a way that meant they were going to settle soon. Don’t ask me how I knew this, I just knew.
“Well, when you’re little and the world seems so big, sometimes the simplest things can be scary, don’t you think?”
He gave one of his typical replies, “Just get on with your story because obviously you’re going to continue talking no matter how much I don’t want to hear it.”
This time, I didn’t hide my smile and Reid crinkled his eyes as if he were going to smile, but then at the last second, he schooled his mouth and didn’t move his lips.
God, he was really something else and all I wanted to do was laugh at his need to…I don’t know, seem “cool” and unaffected by me. I affected him, I knew it even back them. I just didn’t know how much.
I continued, “What I was afraid of was falling down into the toilet and being thrown out into the air without a parachute. So guess what my dad did?”
Reid snorted sarcastically, “I don’t know, ignored you until you acted sensibly?”
There was something in the way Reid said that that pierced me. I immediately thought, “So that’s what happened to you.”
I imagined a much younger Reid, all curls and curiosity and a distant father that demanded that his son behave like an adult rather than a kid.
Maybe it wasn’t true, maybe it wasn’t like that for Reid, but it sure seemed like it could have been. I had the urge wrap my arm around his shoulder and press him close to me, just for a moment to comfort him if he needed it. But I squashed it down, knowing he would not welcome that kind of touching from me.
I chuckled instead, “No. He got the flight attendant to give us a blanket and then he showed me how to grip two corners in each hand so that I could throw the blanket up and over my head so that if I did get sucked down into the toilet, I would have a safe landing.”
Reid shook his head, “Oh my god, you really are an idiot.”
But as Reid said this, he apparently forgot his inner edict against smiling at me. I had a flash of a thought that he found me extremely likable, but I dismissed it then. There was just no way.
“Yeah,” I said fondly, thinking of my dad and how much he wanted to make sure I felt okay. He was such a good dad when it came to practicalities but such a bad one when it came to life’s complexities.
But that was another thing I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to share it then with Reid either. I was well aware of my dad’s short-comings and I didn’t need someone as sharp as Reid to point them out to me.
So I carried on, “Maybe. The point is I was terrified and my dad figured out a way to help me. He walked me to the bathroom when I needed to go but I went in by myself. I kept the blanket tucked underneath my arm the whole time, which made it hard to do, ah, everything, you know? But it made me feel like I could do it. And when I was done, I felt like I had conquered the world. It felt amazing to do something that I felt so afraid to do and to do it on my own, with just a little help. I just wish I had applied that wisdom to other things in my life, later on. But then again, I guess we all forget lessons we’ve learned sometimes, right?”
I opened my mouth to continue the story, to tell Reid about how after, when we were at the horse farm, about how my dad starting teaching me about the ways you can tell a good horse from a not-so-good one when Reid surprised me.
“As fascinating as I find your toilet-talk, I think I would rather beat your ass at Scrabble than listen to another word.”
Then without asking, he took my phone from my hand and loaded the game.
You know what was really weird? At least back then, I thought it was weird. Now of course, I understand myself so much better.
What was really weird – well, maybe a better way to describe it would be to say that it was a new sensation - is that I felt disappointed that when Reid snatched the phone out of my hand, his fingers didn’t touch mine. I wanted to feel how his hand might feel against mine.
Of course, back then I dismissed that notion as pedestrian, run-of-the-mill desire. I was gay, he was gay and so good-looking and funny it could only be natural that I would want to touch him and be touched by him. And it had been so very, very long since I had really touched anyone. I actually forgave myself easily for desiring Reid in that small space. I’m glad I did.
And I wanted to protest his presumption at grabbing my things but all I could do was laugh.
So we played Scrabble.
And much to his consternation and my delight, I beat him at every game. I don’t think I had ever seen him so flustered. It was hilarious.
But he was flustered in a good way because he was immersed in the game and therefore distracted away from his fears by his competitive nature. He wanted to play during our entire flight, so we did.
Well before we landed, he had forgotten his anxiety. I didn’t point that out to him – I was already feeling guilty about winning so much.
And yes, yes, yes, I know, I have problems with guilt. Reid is helping me with that.
As we made our way into the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, I pulled on Reid’s arm.
“What?” he said sharply.
I asked, “Did you let me win?” I had to know.
“What?” he repeated, this time stopping and looking intently at me. I looked back at him and I remember thinking, “His eyes are blue like a crystal, like the most brilliant aquamarine, like the sky when it’s becoming blue in the morning, so hopeful and incredibly new…”
“Uh…,” I fumbled, “Back there, in the plane—”
“No,” he said firmly, “I don’t play that way, Mr. Snyder. I play to win, always.”
I felt pinned by those incredibly faceted eyes as he spoke.
“Don’t worry, I still think you’re an idiot. But apparently you are also a walking thesaurus and dictionary rolled into one. And for a corn-fed youth from the town that time forgot, that’s…impressive,”
I couldn’t help myself, I grinned a huge grin, ducked my head and looked away.
Look, I’ve had people compliment me plenty in my life. I certainly wasn’t lacking the feeling of having people in my corner. But for someone as accomplished as Reid to say something like that? Well, it felt more than good. I felt…joyful. I hadn’t felt that way in a long, long time and I didn’t quite know what to do with it.
Reid didn’t seem to notice what a profound thing he had just said. He just rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward the exit, “Come on, Julie, let’s get on with it. I’ve got a hearing to ace and your boyfriend’s skull to crack, let’s get this show on the road.”
“Julie?” I questioned, falling into step with him, trying suppressing a wave of a heavier, older guilt that was beginning to crash in me, washing away my newfound happiness.
When Reid mentioned being able to do Noah’s surgery, I realized with horror that hadn’t thought about Noah once we were on the plane and Reid was so close to me.
I told myself I would call him as soon as we got to the hotel. I made myself remember his eyes and the darker shade of blue that they were. I made myself remember they had once looked at me with desire and how much I wanted Noah to look at me like that again.
“ ‘The Love Boat,’ ” Reid explained, “Was an execrable show that aired for ten years starting in the late seventies. Julie was the name of the cruise director. It was before your time, I don’t expect you to get the reference.”
Reid wasn’t really concentrating on me at this point. He was striding rapidly through the airport, honing in on getting to the pick-up area where Grandmother’s hired car would be waiting for us.
For once, I let it be quiet between us as we threaded through the crowds. I didn’t want to talk to Reid about Noah even though he was the whole reason we were together for this trip. Reid always seemed to say the wrong thing about Noah and me and I just didn’t want to hear it back then.
Truthfully, I don’t want to hear it now most of the time either.
But getting back to my story, I did what I usually did, which was let myself feel guilty and terrible that I hadn’t thought about Noah at all. I listed all the ways I was the worst boyfriend and made a counter-list of the things I had to do to get better.
“Whatever it is you think you did wrong in order to win,” Reid said abruptly as we climbed into the town car, “Stop beating yourself up about it. It’s okay to win once in awhile, Mr. Snyder and in the land of word-smithing, you’re a better smith than I. I hate losing, but I’ll get over it. There. Now, will you go back to being all sweetness and light? Because this guilty hang-dog thing you’ve got going on is bugging the crap out of me.”
I had to turn my head away from him and pretend to fumble with my seat-belt. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes and I didn’t want him to see.
I felt those tears because I knew, I knew deep down, that even when Noah could see, he never would have noticed that my quiet was laced with guilt and was doing me no good. He wouldn’t have cared in the way he should, in the way a partner should care about the well-being of their boyfriend.
I had had thoughts like that before but at that moment, that insight felt particularly terrible and heavy and certainly in the way of my dream of happiness with Noah.
Reid may have gotten the motivations wrong, but he knew exactly what I had been feeling as we moved through the airport. He knew what I was feeling even though he had known me a much, much shorter time than Noah and when he didn’t seem to particularly care for me.
Well, that’s what I thought back then. Now I know that Reid liked me very much. The point was I thought that in spite of not liking me very much, Reid was trying in make me feel better. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a boyfriend that could read and understand me so well, where every negative feeling that I had wouldn’t be an obstacle to be over-come or erased but rather just part of the experience of being myself.
I couldn’t remember the last time Noah had tried to make me feel better, which is why I felt the need to cry.
“Thanks,” I breathed out shakily, “That’s nice of you to say. I never like to make people feel bad.”
Reid quirked an eye-brow at me, “Except when you’re black-mailing them, of course.”
For some reason, that was the perfect thing to say. And the fact that the corners of Reid’s mouth were turned up slightly let me know that he was finally making a joke about it. The tears dissolved from my eyes and I ducked my head and chortled.
“Right,” I laughed.
Then I looked right at him and I could feel my shoulders relax and a warmth spread in my belly as I said sincerely, “Thanks.”
I think Reid forgot himself for a moment because the corners of his mouth turned up even more. He actually kind of grinned at me and replied in a suggestive voice, “I aim to please.”
We were looking at each other, each smiling and I could feel the moment between us begin to suspend. I tried to remember to breathe and I didn’t know what was happening except I felt a panicked kind of wonder and then the driver announced in his mannered voice that we would be arriving at the hotel in ten minutes.
That broke the moment and both Reid and I quickly looked away from each other.
So that was it, that plane flight to Dallas was the first time I watched Reid.
Even as I say that, I know it’s not true. What I should say is that plane flight to Dallas was the first time I noticed myself watching Reid.
I would be lying if I said I thought the beginning of our romance began on that flight. I wasn’t ready to let go of Noah and the dreams I had of having a happy ever after with my first love. I’m just glad Reid waited for me to see that I would get my happily ever after with my last love.
Well, Reid would say he waited for me to get my head out of my ass, but that’s his story.
And yes, I’m smiling.