Birgitte leaned back in her seat and looked out the window of the plane, watching as the luggage carts and fuel trucks scurried around the tarmac. Things were relatively quiet inside the cabin, the sounds of soft-spoken voices mixing with the hum of the engine. Fastening her seatbelt, she reached for a magazine in the seatback pocket, flipping through the pages.
She knew from the hushed whispers around the cabin that many of her fellow passengers had recognized her, but fortunately, no one had addressed her yet – something she was grateful for. This was a work trip, and she needed some time to mentally prepare for the days ahead. Taking selfies with people and pretending to care about their views on politics would only distract her from getting into the right mindset.
She shot a look at her watch. Only five minutes until take-off.
The old woman two seats from her was breathing heavily, apparently already asleep. Birgitte felt a pang of envy at her ability to doze off so easily. The seat between them was the only empty one left, and she was keeping her fingers crossed it would remain so. It would allow her a little more room to herself – a much welcome luxury, even if the flight was just an hour and 30 minutes.
She put the magazine back into the seatback pocket and was just about to close her eyes and sink into her own thoughts when a familiar voice cut through the cabin:
"Birgitte. What a coincidence."
Her entire body tensed. Of all the people in the world…
She looked up, meeting the gaze of the man who approached along the aisle. She hadn't seen Michael Laugesen since the day she'd resigned as Foreign Minister – except for on TV, of course, but she quickly changed channels whenever that happened – and she would've been perfectly content with the two of them never crossing paths again. But it seemed she wasn't that lucky.
"Michael."
She gave him a cool smile that didn't appear to have any effect. Quite the opposite. He looked irritatingly cheerful as he put his suitcase in the overhead compartment, edged past the sleeping woman and lowered himself into the seat next to her.
"I see you went for the emergency exit as well," he said.
"Yes," she replied, her eyes darting to the door next to them. Now that he'd shown up, part of her felt like pulling the lever and escaping. "I like the extra space."
"Me too." He stretched, giving a little sigh. "Plenty of leg room."
As the plane started to move, Birgitte pretended to pay attention to the safety procedure demonstration, hoping to discourage any further conversation. However, it wasn't long before Laugesen started talking again, apparently not deterred in the slightest:
"Sign any autographs yet?" he asked, glancing around the cabin.
"No," she said, hoping that if she stuck to monosyllables, maybe he would get the message eventually.
"I'm surprised. Given the way you left Danish politics, I was assuming people would be all over you."
Birgitte looked down, pressing her lips together. It was true that her popularity had never been higher. Somehow, she had managed to save face that day of the party conference by owning up to her mistakes and passing the torch on to Jon, bowing out gracefully. A Hero's Exit, one paper had called it. As soon as she was on her way out, the people who'd previously called her arrogant and short-sighted had changed their tune, praising her for her integrity.
But that's what politics was like. The voters and the media could elevate you to the highest pedestal over-night, just like they could turn on you in the span of a news cycle.
She looked up again, meeting Laugesen's gaze:
"Perhaps they can sense that I'm not in the mood for small talk."
He didn't even blink.
"I know what you mean," he said with a little hum. "That's why I normally fly First Class – it offers a bit of privacy. Plus, it's an excellent way to avoid mingling with the commoners," he added.
Not for the first time, Birgitte wondered how this man had ever represented Labor.
"And here I thought you enjoyed being in the spotlight," she replied dryly.
His mouth twitched. "Well… unlike you, I'm not exactly popular with the masses, so I tend to keep a low profile whenever I'm out in public."
Birgitte suppressed a smile. No, Laugesen was far from popular, and rightfully so. Sure, he had his own rabid fanbase that viewed him as a champion of free speech, but most people, herself included, considered him a sensationalist figure, more interested in stirring up controversy than engaging in genuine political commentary.
The engine hum intensified, and the flight attendants began making their way down the aisle, checking to ensure that all passengers had fastened their seatbelts.
"So, why are you going to Brussels?" Laugesen asked as the plane approached the runway. "I'm assuming it's related to your upcoming job?"
She nodded.
"I'm doing a bit of networking and meeting with some MEPs," she said without elaborating. "And you?"
She didn't care about his trip, but since he'd asked about hers it seemed wrong not to do the same.
"I'm visiting an old friend who moved to the city a few years ago," he said, leaning back in his seat. "We went to journalism school together back in the day."
The plane started accelerating, gradually picking up speed until it lifted off the ground. Birgitte looked out the window, watching as the world below shrank into miniature. It wasn't long before they broke through the clouds and into the clear blue sky – a part that usually filled her with a sense of excitement. With Laugesen seated next to her, however, the feeling was somewhat dampened.
"Found a place to live yet?" he asked.
"No," she said, tapping her nail against the seat belt buckle.
She had been looking at some apartments in the European District, but she hadn't made a final decision yet.
Laugesen tilted his head, studying her for a few seconds.
"My friend lives in Ixelles," he said. "Perhaps he can ask around. I can give you his number if you like."
Birgitte blinked in surprise. Even after their time working together, she still hadn't gotten entirely used to the fact that he could be helpful.
"Thanks," she said, offering him a polite smile, "but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not Commissioner yet. The Parliament still has to assess my suitability."
"And when is your hearing?" he asked.
"In a few days," she replied, not wanting to give the exact date away.
His lips curved into a half-smile. "Nervous?"
She shrugged, trying to hide the fact that the mere thought of the confirmation hearing made her uneasy. If Laugesen noticed, he didn't let on.
"I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors," he said. "Just tell them you believe in the power of diplomacy and give them your best crinkled-nosed smile, and everything will be fine."
She rolled her eyes. "It's not that simple."
"You underestimate the power of your nose. If it can capture the hearts of 20,000 voters, I'm sure it can win over the European Parliament."
Birgitte frowned, something stirring in the back of her mind.
"Who told you that?" she asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.
"What?"
"The thing about my nose."
Laugesen smirked. "No one did. It's my own analysis."
Her brows lifted slightly. So he had been the advisor who'd made that comment to Signe Kragh. Looking back, it made sense that he'd coached Signe at some point. What didn't make sense was the adjective he had used according to the PM.
"Your trademark smile is quite compelling," he continued. "Personally, I think that's why the public always let you off the hook so easily. You flash them one of those brilliant smiles, and everything is forgotten in an instant."
She turned her head, keeping her gaze fixed on the sky outside. God, she wished he would just shut up and go away. After a while, she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep, but she could still feel him looking at her, the weight of his gaze making her shift in her seat.
"I'm trying to sleep," she muttered, cracking her eyes open to glare at him. "Stop staring at me."
"I'm gazing out the window," he replied, his voice full of mock innocence. "The view is rather ni–"
Without looking, she reached out, closing the window blind with a 'snap'.
She heard him chuckle. Ignoring him, she closed her eyes again, focusing instead on the sound of the plane engine, but she could tell that he was still staring at her, which made it impossible for her to relax.
After a few minutes, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up.
"I need to use the bathroom," she said, gesturing to the aisle.
She didn't really, but it did provide an excuse to put some distance between them. Laugesen looked up at her, his smirk reemerging:
"Off you go, then."
Birgitte squared her shoulders, inhaling deeply. With her back to Laugesen, she started maneuvering herself toward the aisle, her every movement calculated to avoid any unnecessary contact with him. It should have been easy enough. After all, as he had pointed out earlier, the seats at the emergency exit had plenty of leg room. But everything was relative.
It should have been easy.
If only his legs hadn't been so damn long.
It made it impossible to squeeze past him without the two of them touching. With each step, Birgitte could feel his knees brushing against the back of her thighs. She could do without the sensation, just like she could do without the knowledge that he was most definitely staring at her ass.
A surge of relief washed over her when she finally made it past him. She continued to move, inching past the sleeping woman in the neighboring seat before reaching the aisle. With a polite nod to one of the flight attendants, she made her way down the narrow corridor. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that Laugesen was following her with his eyes, his expression amused.
She reached the bathroom and closed the door behind her with a heavy sigh. It was quiet in here, the only sound the gentle drip of water from the faucet. She checked her watch, concluding that she still had to endure 45 more minutes of Laugesen's company. For a brief moment, she contemplated staying in here for the rest of the flight to avoid him, but she knew she couldn't do that to the other passengers, who arguably needed access to the bathroom more than she needed a break from his aggravating presence.
Taking a deep breath, she turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. After drying herself off, she looked at her reflection, summoning her composure.
She could handle this.
On her way back to her seat, she noticed the plane beginning to rumble. She didn't pay it much attention, mostly because she was soon distracted by the sight of Laugesen, who had taken up even more space in her absence.
This time, she made sure to face him as she tried to inch past him.
Which she immediately realized was worse.
As she maneuvered sideways, she could smell his aftershave – a woody, not entirely unpleasant smell that seemed to fill the narrow space between them. The intensity of his gaze as he looked up at her was palpable, making her skin prickle.
The plane rumbled again, louder this time. The sound was followed by the faint 'ding' of the seat belt sign being switched on and a voice drifting from the speakers:
"Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing turbulence. Please buckle your seat belts."
Suddenly, the plane wobbled. Birgitte, who was still focusing intensely on navigating past Laugesen without touching him, was caught off guard. Losing her balance, she stumbled slightly, prompting him to reach out and steady her, his hands closing firmly around her waist.
She could feel her face flush as she realized that she had grabbed onto his shoulders for support. Quickly, she removed her hands and tried to pull away, but his grip on her only tightened.
"You alright there, Birgitte?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she hissed. "Now would you, please –" she dragged herself away from him, "– let go of me."
Finally, after a few more awkward contortions, she made it back to her seat. Heart still racing, she sat down and fastened her seatbelt. Deciding she had to take more drastic measures to ignore him, she reached for her handbag in the seatback pocket and pulled out her phone and earphones, only to have the phone slip from her grasp as the plane wobbled once more.
It clattered to the floor, landing by her feet.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, struggling to reach for it without undoing her seatbelt.
"Let me get that for you," Laugesen said.
"No, you don't have to do tha –"
But he was already leaning down to pick it up. As he extended his hand, she felt his fingers brush her ankle, causing a jolt of electricity to run through her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she cursed him silently. She knew he had done that on purpose.
Straightening up, he held out her phone to her.
"Here you go."
"I would've gotten it eventually," she said, snatching it from his hand.
"Sure," he replied, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Not wanting to risk dropping anything again, Birgitte shoved her phone and earphones back into her handbag. She was about to make a retort when the turbulence grew stronger, making the words catch in her throat.
Glancing around the cabin, she could tell that many of the other passengers were beginning to feel uncomfortable although they did their best to hide it. She felt a pang of sympathy for them. As someone who had made monthly trips by plane over the last 15 years, she considered turbulence a minor inconvenience. Yet, even she was beginning to feel a bit uneasy as it persisted.
She looked at Laugesen, who had closed his eyes and appeared to be completely unfazed by the shaking plane. His stoic attitude was oddly comforting amidst the jittery atmosphere of the cabin.
As the plane shuddered once more, he opened his eyes and met her gaze, giving a little smile:
"Any last regrets?"
Birgitte swallowed.
That I didn't spend more time with my children.
That I broke things off with Jeremy too soon.
That I wasted too much time working and forgot to just enjoy life.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, the turbulence stopped.
Birgitte opened her hands, which she only now realized had been clenched into fists. Slowly, her pulse returned to normal. In the background, she could hear some of her fellow passengers drawing in relieved breaths.
Perhaps sensing an opening for selling drinks, the flight attendants began moving through the cabin, offering beverages from the service cart. She was about to reach for the drinks menu in the seatback pocket when she realized that Laugesen was looking at her.
"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, what?"
He just stared at her until she remembered his previous question.
Regrets. Right. As if she were ever going to give him something like that.
She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Why don't you tell me about your regrets, Michael," she said, unable to mask the annoyance in her voice. "I think it's only fair, considering all the years you spent prying into my private life."
He sighed. "Right now, I regret not buying a cup of coffee."
Quickly, he signaled to the female flight attendant who'd just passed them, ordering a cup of coffee for both of them. Birgitte was about to tell him that she didn't want anything from him, but the woman was already pouring coffee into two paper cups with practiced ease:
"Milk? Sugar?"
Laugesen shook his head. "Just black."
"And you?" the woman inquired, looking at Birgitte.
"The same, please." She reached out to take the cup, feeling the warmth seep through the thin paper and into her hands. "Thanks."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Laugesen smile as he took his own cup, sipping it casually.
"It seems we take our coffee the same way," he remarked.
Birgitte scoffed. "That's about the only thing we have in common."
"I think we both know that's not true."
She ignored the comment, keeping her gaze fixed on the instructions above the emergency exit.
After a few minutes, the captain's voice sounded from the speaker, announcing that the plane had begun its descent into Brussels. Good. That meant it wouldn't be long before she would be rid of Laugesen. She opened the window blind and finished her coffee, listening as the captain detailed the local time, weather conditions, and temperature. The cabin crew started moving about and collecting waste, their movements smooth despite the slight sway of the aircraft.
Beside her, Laugesen reached for her empty cup, leaning over her slightly to retrieve it. Birgitte pressed herself back into her seat. He must have noticed because he paused for a moment, lingering a little longer than strictly necessary before pulling back, his arm grazing hers as he did. The plane jolted as it descended, causing her stomach to do a little lurch. At least she told herself that was the reason.
As the plane continued its descent, the pressure in the cabin shifted, and Birgitte felt her ears pop. She swallowed, trying to alleviate the discomfort as she glanced out the window, watching the ground below grow closer.
And then, finally, the plane touched down smoothly onto the runway. The old woman in the aisle seat awoke with a loud snort, looking around the cabin with sleepy eyes.
Birgitte felt a rush of relief as the plane approached the terminal, coming to a stop at one of the gates. The passengers around her began to stir, gathering their belongings. She waited for Laugesen to get out of his seat before she stood up and made her way to the aisle, following the flow of passengers to the front of the plane.
Stepping onto the jet bridge, she felt the cool air of the terminal greet her as she walked, the sounds of distant announcements reaching her ears. It wasn't long before Laugesen fell into step beside her. Despite her efforts to maintain a polite distance, he seemed determined to stay close.
"So, this trip of yours," he said. "Is it strictly business? All work, no play?"
"Why?" she asked, throwing him a suspicious look.
He shrugged. "I thought we could meet up at some point now that we're both in the city. Reminisce about the good old days at Borgen."
Birgitte let out an exasperated breath. "I'm really not in the mood to talk about Danish politics, Michael."
"Fair enough."
He was quiet after that, perhaps finally taking a hint.
They walked through the airport in silence until they reached the baggage claim. Birgitte quickly located the conveyor belt with her flight name and number, which started moving as they approached.
"You didn't tell me about your regrets earlier," Laugesen pointed out as she looked for her suitcase.
He was traveling light, hand luggage only, so there was no reason for him to stay in the area. Other than to annoy her, of course.
"You didn't tell me about yours either," she threw back.
Spotting her bag, she stepped forward, reaching out to grab it as it passed by.
Laugesen chuckled. "Well, you know me. I don't normally find myself burdened by regrets. But there is this one thing I've always wanted to do."
She turned around to face him, her mouth suddenly very dry.
"And what is that?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.
"It's probably better if I show you at some point."
Birgitte drew her suitcase closer to her body, her grip on the handle tightening. For a long moment, he just stared at her, and the swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach returned.
"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, breaking eye contact to pull his phone from his pocket, "– my friend's number. Let me just find it."
He looked at the phone for a few seconds before putting it away. Then, grabbing a pen and today's edition of The Express from the outside pocket of his suitcase, he leaned against a steel column, his back blocking the view as he scribbled something down.
"Here you go," he said, tearing off a section of the front page and handing it to her.
She accepted it reluctantly. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She looked down, studying the torn piece of paper.
"Wait," she said with a frown. "You gave me his address as well?"
Laugesen smiled. "No, that's where I'm staying. Just in case you change your mind about meeting up."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone by the conveyor belt. Birgitte watched him disappear into the crowd, too baffled to say anything. She looked at the note again, realizing there was something written on the back as well. Slowly, she flipped it over, her eyes scanning the words.
'We don't have to talk.'
Cheeks burning, Birgitte crumpled up the note.
Presumptuous jerk.
She shifted on her feet, considering tossing it in the trash.
But in the end, she shoved the crumpled paper into her handbag instead.