Chapter Ten, Part II

A week from now

By the time Adrian comes out, showered and wrapped in a towel, Jack is sitting on the edge of the bed checking his phone.

It starts ringing as Adrian crosses the room.

Jack looks at the screen and rejects the call.

“Everything all right?”

“Mike.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“It usually does.”

Adrian smiles as he opens his suitcase.

Jack sets the phone aside and takes his turn in the bathroom while Adrian dresses — dark trousers, a light shirt, something comfortable enough for the hours before pickup but presentable enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s already surrendered to the flight home.

His uniform stays hanging beside the window, a quiet reminder that the morning has an end.

Jack comes back wearing the same clothes as the night before, his shirt slightly creased but still managing to look annoyingly good on him.

His phone rings again. This time he lets it ring until it stops.

“He’s persistent,” Adrian says.

“He knows I’ll answer eventually.”

“You do have a business to run.”

“I’ve been reminded.”

Adrian checks the time. They have about an hour and a half before Jack really needs to leave for the garage. Neither of them says it out loud.

Adrian checks the corridor through the peephole before opening the door.

Empty.

They leave the room and walk to the elevator without meeting anyone. No colleague appears from a neighbouring room, no familiar voice calls Adrian’s name from the far end of the hall.

The elevator arrives almost immediately. Once the doors close, Adrian lets out a breath.

Jack looks at him. “Were you expecting an ambush?”

“With cabin crew, one should always be prepared.”

Jack’s mouth curves slightly, but he doesn’t push it.

They cross the lobby unnoticed and step out into the bright morning.

The small brunch place they visited before is only a few minutes away. The tables outside are already filling, but they find a quiet one near the wall.

It’s strange to be back here. The first time, Adrian had still been trying to understand why Jack had come looking for him — measuring every word, every look, unsure how much he was imagining. Now Jack sits across from him after spending the night in his bed, and Adrian knows exactly what his expression means when their eyes meet across the table.

Adrian orders a double espresso and eggs with toast. Jack orders coffee, bacon, and pancakes.

When the drinks arrive, Adrian looks at Jack’s enormous cup. “That still isn’t coffee.”

Jack lifts it and drinks. “It continues to serve its purpose.”

Adrian lets it go. Some battles need more time than they have this morning.

For a while they talk about ordinary things. Jack asks about the flight home. Adrian tells him it’ll likely be full, and he’ll spend most of it moving between service, paperwork, and whatever small crisis shows up once the doors close.

“Do you sleep at all?” Jack asks.

“Not while I’m working.”

“I meant after you land.”

“I’ll try. My body will have other ideas.”

“When will you be home?”

“Late morning local time. It’ll feel like the middle of the night.”

“And then you unpack immediately.”

Adrian looks at him. “You remembered.”

“I told you. I pay attention.”

The simple statement warms him in a way he’s beginning to recognise.

Jack’s phone buzzes against the table. He glances at the screen but doesn’t pick it up.

“That makes three,” Adrian says.

“I know.”

“You should answer.”

Jack leans back slightly, eyes still on Adrian. “I have another few minutes.”

“The garage may not.”

Jack picks up the phone and answers. “Yeah.” A pause. “No, don’t start it again.” Another pause. “Because if the wiring’s getting hot, starting it a fourth time isn’t going to improve anything.” He closes his eyes briefly. “I’m on my way. Give me forty-five minutes.”

He ends the call and sets the phone face down on the table.

“Serious?”

“No. Preventable.”

Their food arrives. They eat without rushing, though both are aware of the time. Adrian catches Jack looking at him more than once. Each time, Jack holds the look instead of pretending he was staring past him.

Adrian enjoys every one of them — every stolen glance, every brief touch when Jack reaches across the small table, every ordinary question that now seems to carry the knowledge that they’ll see each other again.

“What happens when you land?” Jack asks.

“I go home, unpack, shower, and try to convince myself it’s a normal time of day.”

“And after that?”

Adrian takes a sip of espresso. “I suppose I wait for you to message me.”

Jack looks at him. “You could message me.”

“I could.”

“That would save us both some unnecessary waiting.”

Adrian smiles. “Then I will.”

Jack rests his forearms on the table. “I don’t know exactly what this is yet.”

The directness catches Adrian off guard, though the words themselves don’t.

“Neither do I.”

“I just don’t want it to disappear when you get on the plane.”

Adrian looks at him for a moment. “It won’t.”

Jack nods once.

“Next week will be shorter,” Adrian says.

“I know.”

“Two nights. I may need to sleep for some of them.”

“Then sleep.”

Adrian had expected something playful and finds himself oddly moved by the plain answer.

“You being here is the part I care about,” Jack adds.

Adrian looks down at his plate for a second before meeting his eyes again. “I’ll be here.”

They finish breakfast and split the last piece of toast without discussing who wanted it more.

When the bill arrives, Jack reaches for it. Adrian puts his hand over the paper first.

“You paid last time.”

“I also interrupted your breakfast last time.”

“And today?”

“Today I kept you from getting enough sleep.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “I slept very well.”

“So did I.”

Jack takes the bill from beneath Adrian’s fingers and pays before Adrian can object further.

Outside, the morning has grown warmer. They walk slowly back toward the hotel, neither of them really trying to shorten the distance but unable to lengthen it much either.

Jack’s truck is parked near the entrance. They stop beside it.

For a few seconds, neither of them says anything.

Adrian has said goodbye to thousands of people in airports, hotels, and aircraft doorways. This should be easy. Jack will be here when he returns, and one week isn’t a long time.

It still feels too soon.

Jack reaches out and places one hand at the side of Adrian’s neck. “A week,” he says.

“Approximately.”

“That sounds longer this morning.”

“It’ll pass.”

Jack studies his face. “You sure?”

“No.” Adrian steps closer. “But I’ll be back anyway.”

Jack draws him in.

The kiss is slower than the one against the hotel-room door — no urgency, no need to prove anything. Jack’s hand stays warm against Adrian’s neck while Adrian’s settles at his waist.

For a moment, the hotel, the passing cars, the work waiting for Jack, all stop mattering.

Then Jack pulls back just far enough to look at him. “Message me when you land.”

“You’ll be asleep.”

“Message me anyway.”

“I will.”

Jack kisses him once more, briefly this time, then opens the truck door.

Adrian steps back. “Try not to let Mike destroy anything.”

“No promises.”

Jack gets in and starts the engine. He lowers the window.

“Next week.”

Adrian holds his gaze. “Next week.”

Jack pulls away from the curb. Adrian stays where he is until the truck turns at the end of the street and disappears.

Only then does he walk back toward the hotel entrance.

His phone buzzes before he reaches the doors. A message from Jack.

One week.

Adrian stops beneath the shade of the hotel awning and reads it twice. Then he replies.

I’ll be here.

He slips the phone into his pocket and steps into the lobby.

For the first time, leaving Los Angeles doesn’t feel quite like leaving something behind.

It feels like knowing exactly where he’s coming back to.