This is a long one. Settle in for some real Grade-A nonsense. Take a whole lot of repressed emotion, desperate longing, and compartmentalization with a few tired cliches, mix well with some old flames, mass confusion, outdated social mores, add a dash of fond memories, and throw in a touch of flying anxiety and Roman doing…you know…what he does…. And… you get this chapter. Enjoy. Buckle up.

Setting: Pre Prague/Prague/Pre-Nuptial

The first storm hit the city a few days before New Year's Eve. The mayor gave televised press conferences; there were no major power outages and the Department of Sanitation moved capably through the city in an attempt to clear the streets. Everyone, however, was holding their collective breath for the next storm. It was set to blow in after the New Year itself and the forecasts were not good.

Jess knew, however, after working for nearly five years for a media company, that the news always augmented the danger. Soon the store shelves were bare, and she was delving into her cabinets in the closet of a kitchen—how would she survive this latest snow-pocalypse? The combination she'd discovered of Country Time Lemonade and Cheetos had yielded a decidedly vomitous outcome during her first winter in New York. Blizzards, it seemed, were still a foreign concept to her Californian sensibilities.

Kendall, on the other hand, paid little attention to the weather reports. His sights were currently set on digital art outlets, NFTs, and some real estate in SoHo. Carla had been the one to stock his kitchen. Fikret, his driver, had been the one to ensure his car had fuel.

So that's how they moved into New Year's: Kendall with blinders on, and with Jess picking up religious candles from her local bodega in case of a major power outage. As agreed upon, Jess was to report to Kendall's townhouse on the 31st. And, as previously established, Lance and Fiona were to report on their work from home, thank you very much.

The day was really like any other: putting out small fires, taking on major projects, haggling a meeting time with other investors, reaching out to the elusive founders of these art collectives, and, like every morning, reaching out to Nick for a meeting with Kendall.

Jess figured Nick had mega billions stashed away in the Caymans or in the Maldives or Switzerland—at least Kendall had led her to believe it. And Jess did believe it—and it became her blindspot.

Jess' work hours had increased thirty percent now that she was largely in charge of getting the administrative side of Kendall's fund off the ground. It meant even earlier mornings and later evenings, and on that particular late evening on New Year's Eve, Jess' found her defenses down. As she packed up for the day, she tried to be coolly conversational. Even though she knew he was probing, Jess allowed it.

"Got big plans tonight?" he asked.

Jess inwardly cringed. She did.

"My friend is having a party at her loft in Brooklyn," Jess slipped her bag onto her shoulder as she headed for the front door, "she has roof access…so she's hosting a fireworks watching party."

As Kendall stood at the base of the stairs as he watched Jess bundle up to head home, he nodded, trying to be casual.

Jess turned the collar up on her parka; there it was again: that look of sadness etched across his features. She was starting to notice it more and more these days. She inhaled deeply and cursed at herself.

"Do you…want to come?" she asked.

"What? I mean—"

"It's not a big deal," she said quickly, "just a group of people—mostly my friends from college. Just friends."

Kendall didn't quite know how to interpret that just friends part.

"Um—yeah," he said, "I'd—yeah."

"OK—uh," Jess almost laughed to herself, "I'll text you the address. I'll be getting there around nine."

Kendall nearly offered to pick her up, and began to open his mouth to do so, but stopped at the last minute. He nodded.

"OK. See you then," she said.

There was no record scratch when Kendall entered the party. Jess had been expecting one, and, given that a few of her friends knew exactly who she worked for, she'd been bracing herself for the stares. But everyone kept cool. And, to her amazement, Kendall was cool, too. In his tailored Italian suit and $300 t-shirt.

In fact, everyone loved him. He'd introduced himself only as "Ken" and thirty minutes in, he was slinging some jokes, giving Amy compliments about the loft, and so on.

He seemed at ease with strangers. Especially strangers who had no idea (and did not care) who Kendall Roy actually was.

Jess sipped on her red wine and watched him, thinking she'd have to escort him through the party, but no. Soon, he was up on the roof smoking cigars with Tyler and Matt, Jess' friends who owned a tech startup in Brooklyn. She watched from across the space, covered up in a camping blanket. The wind off the river was relentless.

Amy sidled up to her wrapped in a sleeping bag, topped off her glass, and whispered, "um…not at all what I had pictured."

"Who?"

"Ken," she emphasized with a wink.

"Oh."

"He's super chill, Jess," Amy said, "I mean, maybe a little of a try-hard, but you should bring him around more."

"Yeah, he's…I wouldn't say super chill, but—"

"You should watch out," her friend chuckled and indicated the conversation they were observing, "are we witnessing a buy out right now?"

"Oh, dear lord, I hope not," Jess groaned, "I heard Angela is here, and he's been trying to get a meeting with Dust. Let's shield her from him, yeah?"

"I'm sure they can hold their own—" Amy cut herself off suddenly and Jess followed her friend's eyes to the stairwell entrance to the roof. In the doorway stood someone she knew. A ghost.

"I—I didn't know," Amy stuttered quickly to her friend, "I didn't know he was coming—"

Jess hadn't seen Jack since she'd given back the ring. Three years.

There it was—the record scratch.

"It's—it's fine. We're all adults." Jess took another sip of wine and watched Jack step out onto the roof looking fine as fuck. And then she watched a statuesque woman appear behind him. The goddess was in a draped wrap dress, and she must've been cold, but she didn't show it.

Jess took another sip of wine and thought about how she wasn't good enough for Jack to marry. Jess took another sip of wine and thought about how she actually was grateful she didn't marry Jack. Jess took another sip of wine and pondered the two jumbled, seemingly contradictory opinions in her mind. Jess took another sip of wine and thought about why she seemed to link self-worth with marriage—was this 1958? Jess took another sip of wine and cursed at herself for feeling angry. Jess took another sip of wine and scrambled to think how this would not ruin her night. Jess took another sip of wine and thought about how she hadn't been in a relationship in three years. Jess took another sip of wine and thought about how maybe she had been in a relationship for three years.

From across the roof, Jess' body language—crossed arms, gripped fists around the blanket, turned down mouth, the wine chugging—was sending a clear signal to Kendall. He turned his attention away from his conversation and watched Jess as she was approached by an impossibly tall man. An infuriatingly attractive man. A man with an impeccably tailored suit—he must go to one of those secret places in Brooklyn. A man who spent serious cash on Italian leather wing-tipped shoes. A man who looked more out of place at this party than Kendall did. A man who drew the attention of all of those on the roof.

What a fucking dick, Kendall thought.

He watched as the man kissed Jess on the cheek (did she wince?), and Kendall felt his jaw tighten. So this was the guy. What was his name? Some stupid fucking generic vanilla name—Jeff, Joe—Jack.

"Hey, Jess," Jack said in a friendly-like way.

Kendall watched from afar with laser focus through the crowd.

"Hey," she tried in vain to keep cool. Jess took another sip of wine; her limbs began to feel loose.

"This is my wife, Alicia," Jack gestured to the gorgeous woman beside him who extended her hand to Jess.

"Nice to meet you," Jess managed as the words my wife threatened to knock her over; the woman had a great handshake. The wind picked up. "Wife. Wow. Congrats."

"Yeah," Alicia said, "we're coming up on our one-year anniversary."

"Oh wow," Jess breathed, swirling her wine, doing math in her head, "one year—"

She looked at Jack, who didn't make eye contact with her. "That's…that's great."

Kendall had come up behind Jess. She could sense him behind her; the wind had abated. She felt his hand on her back and saw him alongside her, and the cigar had been replaced by an American Spirit. He seemed to be subbing, but he looked clear and clean, she noticed.

"Hey," he said pointedly at Jess' ex-fiancé, putting the cigarette in his mouth so he could extend his hand, "Kendall."

"Hey—Jack," the man said as he took Kendall's hand and a wave of realization washed over his face when he realized who he was meeting.

"Oh—Jack?" Kendall commented, "right, of course. Jack."

"And Kendall Roy, right?" Jack came back, "yeah, Jess talked a lot about you."

A pause.

Kendall's hackles rose, and Jess sensed it.

"So," Kendall said, with a puff of his cigarette, "what do you do, Jack?"

Jess looked on, nervous, but allowed Kendall free reign.

"I'm counsel for Vornado," Jack accepted a drink from Amy, who was keen to keep everyone satiated.

"Oh, general counsel?"

"No—real-estate."

"Ah, how is Steven doing these days?" Kendall asked.

Jess bit her lip in unadulterated glee: Jack had met Steven Roth, the CEO, all of probably twice—and Kendall had immediately figured as much.

"He's—um, he's good."

"I heard about that deal on Fifth Avenue," Kendall pressed and found his hand sliding around Jess' waist. She let him. "A shame, really."

But before Jack could respond, Jess cut in: "So…good to see you. Alicia, nice to meet you."

"Yes, Alicia," Kendall reached out and touched her arm, "so good to meet you."

Jess excused herself from them, and Kendall followed her after shooting a glance at Jack. They found a quiet corner—by the staircase that led back downstairs to the loft.

Jess took another sip of her wine, which somehow, without her knowing, had been replenished by Amy.

"Hey—you OK?" Kendall asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jess said with a peppy dishonesty, "yeah—fine."

"Because I could end his entire career with—like—street chatter."

"Kendall—"

"So, he's the guy—"

"I don't—"

"Like, I could totally end him," Kendall huffed, "you never asked, but I could totally do that for you."

"It was three years ago—"

"I mean," Kendall took a drag of his cigarette as Jess took a sip of her wine, "what the fuck. He fucking—throws away—"

"Kendall—" Jess drew the blanket closer around her shoulders.

"What a—"

"OK, well, I just want to have this night—" Jess quietly protested as she realized the math between Jack's relationships hinted at an overlap.

"Sure, sure," Kendall relented.

They stood in silence for a moment as they watched Tyler, Matt, and Angel, a friend from Jess' yoga class, cobble together some cords of wood and start a very illegal firepit in an old steel drum.

"Hey Ken!" Angel called, "can we borrow your lighter again?"

"Oh, sure thing, man," Kendall tossed to Angel, just narrowly missing Jack's shoulder, "oh sorry, chief. Didn't see you there."

Amy, who seemed to be everywhere and anywhere, poked her head out from the stairwell: "Um…Ken…there's—there's people here? Caterers?"

"Oh, shit, yeah," Kendall took a final drag from the cigarette and threw it into the firepit, "just um—yeah, I called in some people to bring food. I hope that's OK. Can they set up downstairs?"

"Um—of course." Amy glanced at Jess in disbelief.

"Yeah, just a few bites—champagne, caviar, and blinis for the New Year," Kendall shrugged, "not too pretentious, you know."

"Right, right," Amy laughed and retreated to her apartment to show the caterers where to prep.

"You're a hit," Jess commented. "Doing the most."

"It's nothing—just a contribution."

Jess was quiet and took a sip of her wine; the glass hid her smile.

"And I could have Jack's caviar poisoned."

She laughed in a hollow way, "I don't want him poisoned."

"You still love him," Kendall blurted out the words; he chalked it up to the night air, the holiday. Was he angling for something tonight? His strategy seemed chaotic.

Jess paused and Kendall cringed—too forward, what the fuck. His mind went immediately to HR and then he realized that Jess was essentially HR now. He gaped a little, and backtracked, "you don't—I'm sorry—"

"No."

Another pause.

"No meaning…I don't love him," she said, looking down into her glass and words tumbled forth before she could think to stop them, "and maybe…could you chill?"

Kendall turned his mouth down for a moment to keep from showing an impressed smile. Jess had never asked him to modify, well, anything.

"Chill?" he asked as he could feel himself getting hard.

"Yeah, just…" she drew her hand across her forehead, "with the throwing the lighter and Jack and—"

A server appeared with a tray of champagne. Jess took a flute and watched, apprehensive, as Kendall waved it away for himself.

"I'm good—I'm good," he muttered quickly to her, to reassure her, but Jess was too tipsy to notice.

"Yeah," she continued, "you always do so much. You don't have to do as much."

Was that a riddle? Kendall didn't get it.

Another server arrived with a tray of caviar and blinis. Somehow, Kendall had singlehandedly turned her friends' New Year's get together into a society event. Jess surveyed everyone on the roof; they fucking loved it. Makeshift firepits and beluga caviar.

In her haze of wine and seeing her ex-fiancé with his new wife, Jess had lost track of time. She danced, she laughed away the very idea of Alicia, who always seemed to be behind her, and salvaged the evening. Was it 11? Or 9:30? Kendall was around, somewhere, making all of the friends (save for Jack). Someone somewhere had started the countdown. Jess sat down by the roof's wall to take a break; she hadn't drunk like this in a while. The fireworks suddenly began to explode over the river; Jess looked up to the sky. The wind picked up again.

5…4...3…2…1…

Flashes of pink and blue rained over her, and Kendall sat just behind her. The crowd on the roof, with champagne in hand, cried out into the night along with the rest of the city. Echoes of cheers flooded the thin, frigid air. The firepit glowed in the middle of the roof, still looking dangerous. People nearby shared kisses. Auld Lang Syne played from someone's phone. It was in a cup.

Jess looked out over the river, grasped her champagne and held the blanket close. Kendall watched her without speaking.

"God, this song is so fucking depressing," Jess stared at Manhattan and emitted a small, bitter laugh.

The fireworks reflected colors onto her face. After one firework exploded above them, Jess turned back to Kendall, feeling his gaze. He was very close now, gazing at her lips. Kendall brought his hand up to her chin, daring to guide it toward him. His thumb grazed her lip, and, very quickly, he drew her mouth to his. This kiss was deep, slow. It was different than the feral one in Shanghai; this was smooth and certain. But it was quick—too quick, Kendall estimated—and Jess broke away, and Kendall sat, in a certain level of shock, watching her as she regained her composure. It seemed easy for her, even now, even in spite of the wine.

He could taste the alcohol when he had kissed her and found he craved another taste. When the fireworks ended, the party continued downstairs. More champagne and more caviar, to everyone's delight. People started to file down the staircase, and soon they were alone; no one had noticed them in the corner.

Jess began to smile. And the smile turned into a light laugh. Kendall, puzzled but heartened, looked at her for an explanation.

She shook her head and took another sip of her wine; she'd figured she had enough at this point to power a suburban book club, "why are we like this?"

"I—" Kendall scoffed a bit, and allowed himself a laugh as well, "I—have asked myself that…at several different junctures."

Jess rubbed her lips together and smiled again, nodding. The head nod began to turn into a shake, and she set her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she got on her feet. Without another word, Jess left and went back downstairs.

It was then that Kendall, alone, realized the fire was still going. He quickly spied a bag of sand—at least someone had prepared—and poured the contents over the flames. With the pit extinguished, Kendall shuffled down the stairs where he, the guy who brought the Veuve and caviar, was greeted like a hero.

They didn't talk about it. Neither of them knew quite what to say—or if anything should be said. And while the assumption was that it would make things awkward, it actually acted as a pressure valve. They were more at ease with one another. It wasn't the desert, (they failed to replicate that level of intimacy—how could you in public?) but soon, the late-night pizza started up again, spending quiet evenings reviewing pitches from app developers by the fire, having meetings at the coffee table rather than at Kendall's desk. It was easier not to say anything, but instead to lock eyes every now and then, if only to acknowledge the lovely, silent chaos that they were both caught up in. That kiss on the rooftop elevated the relationship to a weird new plane of reality that defied definition. No language had been invented yet to explain who they were together. And neither questioned it.

January whizzed by into February, and Kendall was chasing the digital art collective, Dust, for a meeting. They relented after Jess reached out to Amy to speak with Angela, and it resulted in setting up a time later in February. This meeting, Kendall figured, was a route into the startup world. It was around this time that Jess noticed Kendall's style changing—music, clothing, interior design. She was busy corresponding with designers and stylists for him, but he always seemed to wear the same outfit and replay the same songs. Jess observed Kendall acting almost like a teenager, finally free of his father's clutches, trying on different material trappings that signaled a new identity. And while they seemed more comfortable with each other, Jess sensed a disquietude. Maybe, the problem after all wasn't being under his father's thumb. Maybe the problem for Kendall was deeper. Maybe it wasn't a problem she could solve. Jess, though, tamped down those thoughts.

He was careful. Kendall felt pangs of guilt when he would tell Jess to reach out to Nick for a meeting. A meeting she thought had to do with offshore accounts. This arrangement that Kendall had set up created a certain type of plausible deniability. It kept her from thinking he was doing coke, and it kept his phone clean of messages. She was now allowing herself to slowly let him in—and it was based on the idea that he was not using (her or drugs). Kendall knew it was a stability founded on a volatile lie, but at this point, he was chasing the idea of her lips on his, chasing ways to make her mouth turn into a smile, chasing that feeling of being flung into a void. And it intoxicated him.

"Hey, what's up?" Jess picked up her phone after the ringing had served as something of an alarm. She checked the clock: 5:30 A.M. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah—sorry," Kendall said at the other end of the line, "it's early. There have been some developments—I'm coming in from Brooklyn. I'll pick up breakfast and swing by your place on my way home, and we'll get to work."

"Wait—you're…not in Prague?"

"Long story."

"Sure—I'll be ready," Jess yawned and stretched—audibly enough for Kendall to hear.

He didn't mean to clear his throat straight into his phone, but he couldn't stop. Totally involuntary.

"I'll see you in a bit," her voice was sleepy, and it made Kendall fucking wild.

"So," Kendall began with a tired huff as he handed her a bacon, egg and cheese on a hard roll along with a cup of coffee (two sugars) as she climbed into the backseat of the car.

"Oh, did you go to the—' Jess began.

"—the place in Greenpoint," they said together.

"I don't know what they do to their eggs," Jess unwrapped the sandwich excitedly and marked that Kendall had remembered when they went there the month before when they had a meeting in Williamsburg with some NFT app developers.

"Fucking magic, right?" Kendall took a bite, "so I'm thinking of going in on a bearhug with Stewy against Waystar."

Jess started coughing; a piece of roll got lodged in her throat. She coughed through it, loudly, as Kendall reached out to pat her on the back, but then quickly retreated. He was especially afraid to touch her these days. Jess took a sip of coffee and stared at Kendall with large, now watery, eyes. "What?"

"Um—yeah," Kendall was a little taken aback by Jess' reaction: she had never openly expressed any opinion on any business deal of his, but also because it alerted to him the actual severity of the situation.

Jess took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly this time. She took a sip of coffee and stared out the window as they whizzed up Amsterdam before the traffic picked up for the day.

"I should've known," Jess said with a wry smile.

"Known?"

"Every time you surprise me with food, you're going to ask me something. For Shanghai, it was pizza. For the vote of no confidence, it was cocktails."

Kendall took a swift inhale, a little bit deflated that Jess called him out on his tactics. "You're on to me. And, for the record, there have been many meals that we have shared that didn't-"

"So you're doing this?"

Kendall took a beat. "Yeah, I am doing this."

Jess just furrowed her brow in response.

"What?" He asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Stewy?"

"And Sandy Furness."

Jess' mouth dropped open, "goddamn. Kendall."

"Yeah, it's—it's fucking crazy," he admitted, but his voice was steady, "yeah, apparently Stewy has essentially been Sandy's proxy. On the board."

"Fuck. OK."

Kendall blinked twice at words as an aside because he was thinking of ways in which he could make Jess say fuck again, but continued, "So I think we need to get the ball rolling on a few things. I'm meeting with them later to sign. So—you with me?"

"As usual," Jess deadpanned as she licked cheese off of her thumb, "strapped in. Ready for liftoff."

Kendall scoffed, in shock, as they turned onto 70th, "fuckin'….Jess with the jokes."

Working for Kendall Roy was not so much of a space shuttle launch as it was a roller coaster. And the roller coaster over the next few weeks was one that Jess thought was frightening, operating in inclement weather, and not up to code. Still, she was there. Still, Jess knew she was not there for guidance, but support. That reality chafed at her—how would she ever tell him that she had a very bad feeling about this? Kendall was not known for his triumphs. The feeling nagged at her as she reviewed the travel plans with Kendall for Shiv and Tom's wedding. He sat across his dining room table from her and waited her to finish.

"According to the timeline," she said, "you need to be wheels up at eight p.m. So you'll get to Oxford at 8 a.m. and then Eastnor at 9:30. You're staying in the East Turret Bedroom."

"Yeah, so," Kendall cleared his throat, "things seem to be picking up. Seems like it's ten days now—they're wanting to push this through. I've got Frank coming on the jet with me, but you don't have to worry about his car or accom or anything. He's doing his own thing."

"Right—everything is set on our end—"

"I think with how quickly things are progressing," he continued, "you need to be on site."

"Like—"

"I need you there. Fiona and Lance can hold down the fort here."

Of course, Fiona and Lance would stay in New York.

Jess paused as she took in his words. Need—in what way?

"Right—copy that," Jess pulled the laptop closer to her and began scrolling Airbnb.

The flight across the Atlantic was thankfully off to a smooth start. Jess took the time to review the itinerary with Kendall. A flight attendant appeared with dinner, but neither of them ate. Frank snored in the back.

"The rehearsal is at 11 at the church in Eastnor. Then the luncheon back at the castle. And you have the cocktail reception at 7. So, I've confirmed with Frank a meeting with the Canadian investors at 3."

"Where are you going to be? One of the cottages—on the grounds?"

"No, funnily enough, everything was booked solid. Seems there's a big event—" Jess said in a low voice as she kept her eyes on the tablet.

"Your sarcasm is acknowledged but not appreciated," Kendall quipped, "but you were able to find-?"

"Yeah, in Ludbury. Just six minutes away."

Correspondence trickled in during the flight, but it slowed to a complete halt when they were about halfway through their journey.

"Looks like everything has calmed down for the night," Jess said, finally closing her laptop and plugging it in to charge, "let's see if I can't grab some sleep."

Kendall who sat across from her, scrolled his phone tiredly, frustrated by the investors' hesitance about the bearhug; nothing could be done about it now, over the Atlantic in the middle of the night, but that didn't stop him from compulsively checking his phone.

He was so distracted by his jumble of thoughts, his craving for just one line, that he experienced one short, dizzying moment when he raised his head to find Jess in those linen pajamas (light blue this time) reappear in the main cabin. Fuzzy socks. Dewy moisturized skin, tired face, rummaging through her tote.

Jess rubbed her hands vigorously for a bit across her upper arms. For all of her checking and double checking that the office equipment was packed properly with UK adapters and cords, she'd forgotten a sweatshirt. Kendall rose from his seat.

"You forget something?"

"Nothing important—just a sweater," she checked her bag again, with the idea that maybe the item would magically appear.

And as she dug through the bag once more, an item did appear before her. Kendall held out his grey knit hoodie. Instantly, Jess was transported back in time.

"I'm not using it," he said.

"Thanks," Jess murmured as she took the hoodie and slipped it on.

In a jolt, the plane dipped through some turbulence, and Jess gripped onto Kendall's arms to steady herself. She glanced at him briefly, and he took note of her nervousness.

"Wait, you're not a good flyer?" He asked with a laugh.

"No, actually, I'm not."

"How many times have we flown-?"

"And how many times did I grit my teeth in the seat next to you?"

He felt ashamed he'd never noticed. The captain came over the loudspeaker and told them to buckle up. Kendall took the seat next to Jess as they strapped in.

"It's like a roller coaster," he said as she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out through her mouth.

"Yeah, I hate roller coasters."

They dipped again—must've hit an air pocket.

Soon, the plane leveled out and every few minutes or so, there was only a slightly terrifying amount of lurching. Jess tucked her feet under her and exhaled as she wrapped the hoodie closer to her.

"Turbulence is always worse on the smaller jets," Kendall said as he dared to reach out and rub her arm.

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

Another drop. This time, Jess barely suppressed a yelp. She threw her head against Kendall's shoulder, bracing herself through the bumps.

"How did you do on the flights to and from Shanghai?"

"You wouldn't have wanted to know me."

Kendall contorted his mouth into a small, amused smile, wondering what level of turbulence would cause her to fully fling herself into his arms.

Seeing Jess nervous is…arousing?

That seemed wrong.

It's like … she's showing a weakness.

Nope, that seemed wrong, too.

I can feel her quick heartbeat against my arm.

Not as problematic.

I can feel her breast pressing into my arm.

Slightly problematic, but only if he paid attention to it.

She wrenched her hand from the arm rest and gripped his wrist. Kendall responded reflexively and took her hand into his. She soon started to cut off his circulation. He took a quick stock of all the flights they'd shared together. None were this turbulent. Just then, there were a few more terrifying banks—and a sudden drop—then up again.

"Hey, hey," he said softly.

She picked up her head and looked at him. Their lips were inches from one another.

"Just focus on me and take a breath in."

She did.

"Breathe out."

She did.

"There are like 90,000 planes in the air at one time," he made up the number, "so—you know, probability."

He appealed to her logic—which worked. Jess nodded and bit her lower lip, feeling a modicum of calm. They sat together, very close, and her grip started to ease. They hadn't noticed the seatbelt light go off. Or notice Frank get up from his seat in the back cabin.

"You good?" Kendall whispered to her, his eyes fixed on hers.

She nodded.

"Wow," Frank declared as he walked through with a yawn, "I've not experienced that type of turbulence in probably twenty years. Remember, up in the Cessna, Ken? I was in the back—how did you make out up here?"

"What-?" Kendall stumbled over Frank's boomer choice of words as he and Jess broke their hands apart and put them into their laps.

"With the turbulence—was it bad up here? The back was rocking and rolling."

"Yeah, it was—it was rough," Kendall nodded to Frank and then looked back at Jess. He watched as she stifled a chuckle and and flipped the hood of his sweatshirt onto her head.

Why are we like this?

"You both should get some sleep—you look exhausted," Frank grabbed a water bottle from the cooler and went back to his seat.

Kendall's adrenaline had been surging for weeks. Sleep was elusive. But as Jess pulled out her neck pillow and positioned it so that her shoulder ended up touching his, he allowed his body to relax.

The rest of the ride was smooth. They touched down on time at Oxford International Airport. The weather was brisk but bright. Jess had only ever been to London, never anywhere else in the United Kingdom. Maybe she'd find time for a hike? A pint at the pub? A spa session? Lord knew she needed one. Maybe she'd take the time to finally find time to enjoy a business trip.

Jess organized the day: the driver would drop Kendall off at the rehearsal, and she would set up in his suite at the castle—a fully functioning office in the sitting room while ensuring that his suits were freshly steamed. She was at once a personal and an executive assistant—a grand society wedding with a bearhug preparation on the side. No big deal.

Navigating the castle while the family was at the rehearsal was easy. Navigating the castle while the family was at the castle was much harder. But Jess flitted about, largely unseen. She coordinated her comings and goings stealthily with Kendall, using the side door. If she was noticed, she knew, there could be trouble. Stewy, Frank—Kendall, of course—all had a reason to be there.

She did not.

Still, she had packed a nice silk sheath dress just in case, but she logically knew it would stay wrinkled in her bag.

At 1:30, Jess got a hold of the driver to speed her over to the castle after she received an urgent text from Kendall:

My dad is coming.

Jess considered donning sunglasses and a headscarf to sneak into the place. A large part of her enjoyed the energizing nature of this intrigue, especially given the fact that she had a front row seat in the destruction of one of the world's largest media dinosaurs. She had the car park at a distance, and she sprinted across the lawn toward the side door.

But she did not get by without notice.

"What the—" Roman Roy stood on the balcony, balancing a drink between a few fingers as he picked the petals off of a daffodil.

He turned to Gerri, "did you see-?"

"Was that Jess?" She squinted, only partially interested.

"What is she doing here?" Roman mused as the petals fell at Gerri's feet.

Gerri shrugged and raised one eyebrow, "I don't think Kendall can take a piss these days without her help."

Roman emitted one burst of laughter, "oooo. You think they're fucking? They've gotta be fucking, right?"

"Oh, please, Roman."

"I know, I know, it's a horrible cliché, but, I mean," he said, "there's no other reason she's buzzing about like some sort of secretarial sylph, right? Oooo a clandestine tryst. How very yuppie Regency. 'La, but we mustn't!' They're fucking. Gotta be. How long do you think they've been doing it? They're fucking, right? Do you think—at the office-? Where, like, the conference room? His office? I mean, I guess I would, right? I mean…would you?"

"Yeah, she's hot," Gerri nodded.

Roman raised his eyebrows at her, searching her face for more of a reaction, but stayed silent. Gerri took a sip of her martini, all the while keeping her eyes locked onto his, and sauntered off the balcony without a word.

"They're totally fucking," Roman turned back to face the lawn and saw Jess slip into the side entrance, with Kendall holding open the door for her.

:-)