Page 45 of Fly with Me

“I’m fi-ine.” Olive smiled, trying to ignore both the awkward crack in her voice and the throbbing. She focused on the fact that Stella’s hand was touching her and pretended no other parts of her were throbbing.

Stella’s mouth parted, and Olive turned back to the range, stirring the rice so vigorously the pot almost fell off. No, she couldn’t kiss her again. That was what screwed everything up the first time. If she kissed her again, Stella would probably run away or, more accurately, fly away.

“Go sit, and I’ll bring you a plate. You want everything?” Olive said directly to the microwave.

“Yes, please. I’m not picky other than the whole dietary restriction thing.”

Dietary restriction. Safe topic. Perfect.

Olive spooned food onto a plate, arranging it neatly. “When were you diagnosed?”

“When I was a teenager. I was anemic and really tired. I had migraines. My entire leg went numb for a few days.”

“Holy shit.”

“My dad just thought I wasn’t sleeping enough. The doctors tested for everything. MS. Lots of other scary things. But I tested positive for celiac. It was like magic for my body. I don’t even miss gluten because I feel so much better. I was lucky that a lot of Mexican cooking is corn-based because my grandmother didn’t have much trouble making things gluten-free. A lot of what she made already was. What about your brother? Do you mind me asking about him?”

“No, it’s fine. Jake had some vague symptoms and got tested. My mom and aunt have it too, so we’re pretty familiar with the signs.”

“Not you?”

“Nope. My younger sister doesn’t either.” Gus leaned on Stella, his not-at-all-subtle way of demanding more attention. “Push him off if he’s annoying you. He’s relentless.”

“It’s fine.” Stella actually hugged Gus, wrapping her arms around his thick neck and kissing the top of his head. “I love big dogs.”

Of course she does.

“Any pets?”

“No. My dad’s cat died a few years ago. He’s allergic to dogs. I’m not, though.” Gus arched his neck back and licked her nose.

Olive pointed to the small mid-century table that barely fit in her kitchen nook. “Please come sit.”

Stella grabbed her beer and pulled up a chair to the table. She inhaled deeply as Olive placed the assembled plate in front of her. “You’re like a magical unicorn, Olive.”

“What? Why?”

A magical unicorn? That had to be a good thing, right?

Stella blushed. “Cooking gluten-free. I really appreciate this. Some people think it’s a fad diet… but it’s really serious for me. Still, I feel awkward bringing it up. With my cousins in Texas, sometimes they think it’s the same as keto or like a ‘crunchy’ thing. They’ll give me stuff covered in white flour and act like I should suck it up because it’s not an allergy. I have to explain every time.”

“That’s what Jake said. He basically had to educate everyone at his job about it.”

“You said he built airplanes?”

“Yeah. He was always obsessed with aviation.” Explaining the full situation with Jake was what she’d do with a real girlfriend. This wasn’t a date. This was a dinner to discuss a somewhat mutually beneficial plan. Derek was wrong. She was not desperately trying to inception Stella into being her real girlfriend with baked goods. She wasn’t.

“Please, eat.” Olive smiled.

Stella took the cue, draped her napkin in her lap, and took a few dainty bites. “It is unreal how good this is. Thank you.”

They chatted through dinner about their respective jobs, swapping stories about patients and passengers. Stella was funny, incredibly funny and witty when she told stories about macho pilots from when she’d started out after flight school. Olive found herself laughing almost as much as she normally did on nights with Derek. Strange.

When both their plates were half empty, Olive put her fork and knife down. “We should probably work out the details about what fake dating means. What do I need to do to help you?”

“Oh, right.” Stella hopped up, and ran to her bag where she pulled out a binder. An actual three-ring binder. She handed it to Olive and sat back down.

“What…”