Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Then it hits hard, and I feel terribly nauseated.
“Oh God,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand.
Georgi’s head snaps in my direction. “What?”
“I feel sick. I need to go to the toilet.”
“We can’t move around the cabin until the seatbelt sign is off.”
Raya leans a little forward. “Massage the pressure point just beneath your wrist.”
She indicates where on her own, but before I can move Simi so I can do it, Georgi takes hold of my arm and begins to massage the area in slow circular movements, the pressure firm but not hurting.
When I swallow hard, he keeps the pressure on the spot and leans his head down to catch my eyes. “Take deep breaths.”
I focus on filling my lungs with air, and when he begins to massage me again, I’m surprised when it actually takes the edge off the nausea.
Using his left hand, his palm settles on the side of my head, and he nudges me until my cheek is pressed against his bicep. “Get some rest, Nina,” he murmurs, his tone gentle.
I hold still, my free arm wrapped around my daughter, while Georgi continues to lessen the sick feeling rolling around in my stomach.
Then the impossible happens. One second, I’m adamant about staying awake for as long as I can, and the next, I jerk awake.
I have no idea what happened and instantly sit up, wrapping my arms tighter around Simi.
Raya isn’t in her seat, and a flight attendant is walking down the aisle. Only then do I realize the seat belt sign is off.
“Mama, can I color?” Simi asks.
Before I can tell her no, Georgi gets up and looks down at me. “Where’s her book?”
“In one of the bags.” I have no idea where they are. “But I have her crayons in my handbag. Is…is there any blank paper on board?” I hate asking, but I have no idea how long the flight is, and I can’t expect Simi to sit still. She won’t understand.
“I’ll find some.” He gestures to the flight attendant, and in a brisk tone, he orders, “Bring paper for the child to draw on.”
“Yes, sir.” She hurries away.
Georgi turns back to me, then suddenly reaches for Simi. When I cling to her, my eyes darting to him as anxiety shoots through me, he says, “I’m just moving her to the seat across from you. She can’t sit on your lap for the next ten hours.”
Reluctantly, I let go and watch as he moves my daughter to the other seat.
When he puts on her seat belt, she grins at him while happily kicking her legs.
He brushes his palm over her head, then glances at me. “Crayons?”
Right!
I pull my handbag out from where it’s squashed between the seat and my side and unzip it. Gathering all the crayons, I move forward to give them to Simi, but I’m stopped by the belt keeping me strapped to the seat.
Georgi takes hold of my hand and removes the crayons, then presses a button on Simi’s armrest. The lid of the polished wood console rises smoothly, revealing bottled water, a small crystal dish with a fitted lid filled with chocolate-covered almonds, and a pale box of pastel macarons that immediately catches Simi’s eye.
There’s also an empty pocket where he sets down the crayons so they won’t roll away.
Shit.
I quickly take off my seat belt, and as I scoot forward, Simi asks, “What’s that?”
“Macarons,” Georgi answers, crouching in front of her, and at the same time, blocking me. He opens the box, then says, “You can eat them.”
“Really?” Simi asks, her attention focused on Georgi.
“Yes.” He lifts his hand again and gently cups her cheek. “You can have anything you want, malkata mi printsesa.”
Seeing how her face lights up, a lump instantly forms in my throat, and I know I’ll pay whatever price I have to as long as she’s happy.
I remain tense on the edge of my seat as Simi leans closer, her eyes shining brilliantly while she decides which one to have. She picks up a yellow one, then sits back, and says, “It looks like the sun.”
“It does,” Georgi replies. “Taste it.”
When she takes a tiny bite, a dimple appears in her cheek as a full-blown smile spreads over her lips. “I like it.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Georgi slowly gets up, and when he comes to sit down beside me, he gives me a smirk. “Relax, Nina.”
The flight attendant brings a notebook and gives it to Simi, then she looks at Georgi and me. “Would you like something to drink? Champagne?”
“You can’t drink alcohol,” I say before I can censor my tone so I don’t sound too worried.
“You heard my nurse. Just bring a coffee for me and tea for her.” His eyes flick to Simi, then he asks, “Would you like juice, printsesa?”
“Please,” she mumbles while helping herself to a pink macaron.