Relentless by Patricia Haley and Gracie Hill

ground now.”
    Nicole wondered what Maxwell would be doing if she hadn’t landed safely. Would he go to her condo to be near her things in an effort to feel close to her? Would tears fill his eyes? Would he be inconsolable? She couldn’t provide a confident answer, which widened the crack of emptiness in her that began forming on the plane.
    Standing inside the restaurant waiting to be seated, Nicole noticed the pregnant woman rubbing her stomach and the man gently massaging the valley of her back. The woman spurted out, “Ouch, that hurt. This baby is really starting to kick hard.” The man smiled and placed his hand on the woman’s stomach.
    Nicole looked at Maxwell who hadn’t noticed anything but the screen on his phone. “Can we have dinner without letting work intrude?” she demanded feeling her anger rising again. Whenever they met for dinner or spent meaningful time together, work intruded. She’d never objected in the past. Today needed to be different for Nicole. They were seated quickly by a waiter who handed them menus, briefed them on the chef’s specials, and laid napkins across their laps. Nicole opened her menu, but her eyes roamed, drinking in the large room, couples holding hands, crystal chandeliers dancing with colorful prisms of light, and the pearl white baby grand piano serenading the crowd. Peering at the menu, food wasn’t really the source of her hunger.
    Three well-manicured fingernails latched onto the top of Maxwell’s menu, pulling it down and revealing the urgency in her eyes. “I’d like to talk to you.” She waited for his gaze of affirmation, which he never gave.
    â€œSure, just one quick minute.”
    The waiter returned with two sparkling glasses of water and a small dish of lemon slices. “Have you made selections for the evening?”
    â€œNot yet,” Nicole replied.
    â€œNo problem, take your time. Let me know if you have any questions.”
    Then the wine steward came to the table. Maxwell took a quick sip from his water glass. “I’ll take a bottle of your white wine.”
    â€œSir, we have a nice selection here,” the steward said holding out a wine list.
    â€œSurprise me,” Maxwell responded.
    â€œMy pleasure, sir,” the steward said and left.
    Once Nicole and Maxwell were alone, he surrendered his attention. “Now, I’m listening. What’s up?” he asked with his gaze locked on her.
    Nicole leaned forward slightly, admitting, “I just can’t let go of what happened on that plane.” Her voice was soft, almost weak; definitely not her typical “I’m in charge” air. She knew it and made no apologies. “It was like something in a movie.”
    The steward returned and set two glasses in front of the couple. Then he poured a sip. Maxwell sampled the wine, savoring it in his mouth a couple of seconds before swallowing. He gave the thumbs-up and both glasses were filled.
    Nicole anxiously waited for the steward to hurry up and go away. She’d been interrupted too many times today. She had to get her story out before imploding. She sipped the wine hoping it would mellow her anxiety. Finally spirits were flowing and the wine steward was gone. They were alone again.
    â€œWhat were you saying?”
    Nicole pressed her fingertips into her chest just above her left breast. “I was scared! I wanted to hold on to someone, but there was no one there for me. The seat next to me was empty.”
    Maxwell handed Nicole the glass of wine sitting in front of her. “Relax, drink this.”
    She took a sip, peering at him over the rim of the glass. “I’ve never experienced anything so unnerving in my life. Things like that make you think.” Taking in a slow, cleansing breath, she sat back and rested her forearms on the table. “When I finally got home, I dreamt the plane had actually crashed and there were no survivors. It