Love Unwritten (Lakefront Billionaires, 2)

I’ve been on two airplanes in my whole life, and I suffered through both rides with gritted teeth, a constant cold sweat, and a churning stomach that never relented. Avoiding my fear of flying didn’t take much effort since my family chose vacation destinations we could visit by car, but now I no longer have the luxury of avoiding the inevitable.

Willow suggested I take something to help with the flight, but I never gathered the courage to talk to Rafael about taking prescription medication while on the job. Admitting my fear aloud felt silly, especially to someone who has his own private jet and a passport stamped with tons of countries, so I kept my worries to myself.

When I suggested flying commercial while Nico and Rafael flew in the family’s private jet, Nico vetoed the idea before volunteering them to fly with me. His father protested, but Nico didn’t back down, solely because I had secretly told him that I liked bigger planes. I never explained why, but thankfully, he didn’t ask.

Rafael, on the other hand, questioned me a few times about flying commercial versus private, but I always found a way out of the conversation before ever having to answer him.

Like today.

Thankfully, Nico does a good job of distracting me from my spiraling thoughts and his father’s questions by dragging me around the airport terminal. In the short time we’ve been waiting for our plane to arrive at the gate, we have visited three different stores, and I’ve bought an overpriced pack of sour gummy worms, a neck pillow for the long flight, a coloring book, and a fifty-count pack of colored pencils.

“Ellie.” The way Rafael says my name draws a sharp breath from me. By now, I should be used to him no longer calling me Eleanor, but my heart still takes a dive into my stomach every time he says it.

He holds my boarding pass out for me to grab. “You dropped this back at the store.”

“My bad.” My fingers tremble as I reach for the piece of paper.

“Are you okay?” He pulls back, and my fingers grasp onto air.

“Yup. Why wouldn’t I be?” I plaster on a small—albeit, very tense—smile.

He scowls. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m cold.” I wrap my arms around my torso.

“Then why are you sweating?”

My fingers twitch with irritation. How did we go from happily ignoring each other’s existence to him checking in on me like he actually gives a damn, and what’s the best way to politely tell him to stop?

When I don’t answer, he follows up with, “Are you feeling sick or something?”

“Ellie! Look what I found!” Nico, my knight in light-up sneakers, runs over to us with the newest edition of his favorite comic book.

“Whoa. Where did you get that?” I quickly jump into a conversation with him, although Rafael’s knowing gaze follows me long after we buy Nico’s new comic and leave the airport bookstore behind us.

I do my best to keep calm and collected, but no amount of encouraging texts from Willow and my mom or silent prayers to a higher power save me from the overwhelming sick feeling I’m hit with when our group is called to board the plane.

Thankfully, Rafael doesn’t comment on me dropping my guitar case on the way, although he does spare me another strange look when he goes to pick it up for me. I regret bringing the instrument, but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it behind, in part because I’m still not sure if I want to take Cole up on his offer to write a song.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll get inspired on our trip.

Nico remains unaware of my struggles, which is a blessing in disguise since the last thing I want to do is worry him about a plane. He leads the three of us, looking far older than his nine years of age with the way he manages to roll his suitcase while talking to his grandma at the same time.

“Si, Abuela. Yo te llamo cuando lleguemos.”

My heart hammers in my chest as Nico goes before us and hands his first-class boarding pass over to the smiling airline employee.

Despite usually traveling on Rafael’s private jet, Nico acts like a pro as he tucks his boarding pass into the front pocket of his miniature carry-on suitcase before taking off to the jet bridge.

Acid climbs up my throat as the employee beckons me forward. My feet remain frozen to the carpet, my body paralyzed by fear until my fight-or-flight response kicks in.

Nope. Can’t do it.

The thought of getting on that plane—of spending hours trapped in a small metal tube with hundreds of people at the mercy of turbulence and a pilot I don’t know—seems impossible.

“Ma’am?” The employee frowns. “Your boarding pass, please?”

“I got it.” Rafael slips his hand into my hoodie pocket, replacing the cold dread in my stomach with a wave of heat. A cotton barrier prevents his fingers from grazing my skin, but my body reacts anyway.

“Just breathe,” he whispers in my ear as he holds the boarding pass out toward the woman. “You’re going to be fine.”

Am I? Because I don’t exactly feel anything remotely close to fine at the moment.

Si, Abuela. Yo te llamo cuando lleguemos.: Yes, Grandma. I’ll call you when we get there.

“Nico is waiting for us. See?” Rafael reminds me.

I was so busy panicking, I forgot all about Nico. We haven’t even made it to Hawaii yet and I’m already messing up.

It’ll be a miracle if I still have a job by the end of our two-week vacation.

“Miss, are you all right?” the employee asks.

“Define all right?”

She makes a face.

“She’s joking.” Rafael swaps my boarding pass with his. With a quick scan, both of us are cleared to board.

Too bad my shaky legs won’t cooperate.

Rafael places his hand on the small of my back and gives me a small push. “I know this part is hard, but you’re going to be okay.” His palm remains a warm, soothing presence against my spine, grounding me to the world.

Rafael offering me comfort was not something I ever thought possible, but I’ll never say no to an emotional support buddy during a plane ride.

He lightly pushes me with one hand while rolling both of our carry-ons with the other. “Come on. The sooner we get on the plane, the quicker you can get settled in.”

He leads me down the never-ending jet bridge that feels hotter than hell thanks to the June sun beating down on the metal tube. “You didn’t tell me you were afraid of flying.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Fair enough.” His low chuckle tickles my ear and sends a shiver down my spine. “Now I finally understand why you didn’t want to take the private jet.”

“Have you seen the size of that thing? It’s tiny.” The massive plane we are about to board makes Rafael’s jet look like one of Nico’s toys.

“It’s not nice to insult a man’s size.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Rafael Angelo Lopez. Did you just make a dick joke?” I sneak a glance at my boss, whose cheeks turn pink.

“How did you find out my middle name?”

“The same way I find out most things.”

“My aunt needs to learn how to keep her mouth shut.” His blush intensifies.

I used to be a glutton for Rafael’s smiles, but I prefer the way his cheeks flush with embarrassment even more, especially when I’m the cause of it.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Hey, slow pokes! Let’s go! It’s hot in here!” Nico shouts.

Rafael sobers, and his serious mask returns as he gives me another little push.

“Are you okay?” Nico looks at me when we finally make it to the door of the plane.

“Yeah. Just feeling a little sick.”

“Oh no!”

I plaster on my best reassuring smile. “Yeah, but I’ll be fine.”

“Good, because it’s gonna be a long flight.” He really enunciates the word long, which further fuels my panic.

Rafael seems to notice my cracking composure and gives the back of my neck a reassuring squeeze. The gesture is far more intimate than he probably intended, and it makes my heart jolt.

A flight attendant waves to get our attention, and Nico grabs my hand and pulls me toward the open cabin door. “Let’s go!”

I follow behind him without protesting because, regardless of my personal fears, I’m willing to do just about anything for Nico Lopez, including suffer through ten hours of misery and motion sickness if it makes him happy.

Nico talks my ear off throughout the entire plane boarding process. I try to keep up with the conversation, and he seems to have forgotten about me feeling sick until I rip my sweaty hoodie off and pop a Dramamine into my mouth.

“Are you still feeling bad?” he asks in the loudest whisper known to man.

“Kind of?”

“What’s wrong?”

Thankfully, I’m saved from having to answer by none other than Rafael.

“Nicolas?” his dad calls from the seat behind me.

“¿Si, Papi?”

“Do you mind switching seats with me?”

He makes a slight frown. “Ugh. Why?”

“Because my window screen won’t open.”

“Mm.” Nico leans in and whispers in my ear, “Papi likes keeping it open because he’s a scaredy cat.”

Well, Rafael is going to be mighty disappointed when he learns I’d much rather leave mine closed.

“Nico,” Rafael says in that serious tone of his.

“Fine.”

They swap seats. Since Rafael bought four tickets so he didn’t have to sit next to anyone, Nico stretches across the two large seats.

“Put your seat belt on, please.” Rafael stands and waits for the confirmatory click of the two metal pieces locking together.

My heart, which was already racing, threatens to burst as Rafael slides through the gap between me and the seat in front of mine.

I’ve never been so acutely aware of someone else before, and my body goes haywire as he brushes past me to get to his seat.

“Hey,” he says once he settles into the chair beside me.

“Hi.” I stare into his dark brown eyes.

We rarely have a chance to be this close to one another, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. On the one hand, I find it difficult to look away, while on the other, I’m desperate to evade his gaze.

Fortunately for both of us, he ruins the moment by lifting the window covering.

“No!” I rush to cover his hand with my own.

“You don’t like to look out the window?”

“Absolutely not.”

He frowns. “Why?”

Since my self-preservation was lost somewhere between the loading bridge and the first-class cabin, I have nothing to lose by being honest.

“It makes my anxiety worse.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

He takes a moment to think. “What is it that you’re most afraid of? Claustrophobia? Crashing? Turbulence? Takeoff or landing?”

“Is there an all of the above option?”

His lips curl ever so slightly at the corners. “You hate flying that much?”

“Absolutely despise it. This entire process is a nightmare from beginning to end, so maybe it’s best if I switch seats with Nico and let you two enjoy the whole first-class experience.”

He ignores my offer and asks, “How many times have you been on an airplane?”

“Twice.”

“In your life?”

“No, in the last month.”

He makes a face.

“Of course twice in my whole life. One trip was enough to last a lifetime.”

His head tilts. “But you agreed to go on this trip.”

“Because it’s important to him,” I whisper while pointing my thumb at the row behind us.

I had never anticipated Nico wanting me to join him and his father on a trip to create lasting visual memories, but once I was invited, I couldn’t exactly say no. Not even after Nico encouraged his father to switch the original Europe trip for a tropical vacation ill-suited to someone who wants to hide their scars for as long as humanly possible.

Rafael stares at me for the longest five seconds of my life. “Thank you.” His throat visibly tightens from his thick swallow. “It means a lot to him.”

A tidal wave of warmth spreads through my chest, only to be cut short when the takeoff message cuts out and the plane jerks backward.

My breathing becomes shallower as the plane starts moving toward the runway, and my bone-crushing grip on the armrests tightens until my knuckles turn white from lack of blood flow.

Rafael’s gaze lifts from my hands. “You should have told me about this.”

I laugh to myself. “What could you have done?”

“Suggested some Xanax?”

“Do you happen to have some?”

“No, but I would have pointed you toward someone who could have helped. Or at the very least, I would have taught you some strategies before the big flight.”

“Oh, because you’re an expert on aviophobia now?”

“Seeing as I once felt the same way, yeah.”

“Really?” I thought Nico was joking because I find it hard to believe Rafael is—or was—afraid of something mundane like planes. He seems so…strong and stoic.

“Yup. Why do you think I like to keep the window open?”

“If you want…” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You could…”

“I’m fine.”

The takeoff announcement begins to play on the large screen in front of me, reminding me of everything that can go wrong on the flight. I can’t look away from the short film that discusses safety rafts, emergency exits, and the importance of putting my oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.

The engines roaring to life only make my anxiety worse as the plane and my heart rate pick up speed.

“Let’s play a game.”

“Cute idea, but I’m going to have to politely decline because, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m about two seconds away from losing my goddamn mind.”

He ignores me as he asks, “Would you rather never play an instrument again or lose the ability to sing?”

My gasp can barely be heard over the noisy engines. “Excuse me?”

“You have to pick one.”

“I don’t want to.” My heart jolts as the wheels lose touch with the ground.

You’re stuck in here for hours, and there is nothing you can do—

“I bet you’d choose to give up your voice.”

Wait. What?

“Which would be a damn shame if you asked me.”

I’m struggling to breathe, and it has nothing to do with the plane taking off.

“You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard.”

My whole face probably resembles a tomato. “You’re just saying that to distract me.”

“Since when have I been the type to give false compliments?”

I’m too stunned to reply.

“So what would you pick?”

I decide to throw him a bone and answer since he is clearly doing this for my benefit. “It’s not like I’d want to stop singing, but never playing an instrument again isn’t an option. They make my soul sing in a way.”

His head tilts in silent curiosity. “What’s that like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Having something that makes you feel alive.”

I struggle to come up with a suitable reply, so I stick to silence as I process his question. Does Rafael not have anything that sets his heart on fire, or has he closed himself off from the opportunity of ever feeling that way?

I’m not sure, but I’m afraid of what might happen if I search hard enough for an answer.