Once in the plane, we didn’t have seats together, of course. I’d gotten an upgrade to business class and Elias was in the back of the plane. He looked at me ruefully and pointed in the direction of his seat. “I’ll see you in New York City.”

I balked and grabbed his jacket, refusing to let him out of my sight. “Hell no. We’re sitting together. Here—” I said, looking at the seat number on his boarding pass. “Let’s go to yours. I’ll give mine to the person sitting next to you.”

Now it was his turn to balk. “That’s a business class seat. Why would you do that?”

I looked up at him with the most pissed-off face I could manage while also experiencing delirious levels of happiness. “Because the man I love is in row twenty-eight, and that’s where I will be on this long-as-hell flight.”

“Okay, Desta.” He cracked up and kept shuffling along to the end of the plane. God, I wanted to weep. I thought I’d never hear him say my name again.

We got to his seat, which was in the middle of the plane. After a ten-second exchange, a very happy middle-aged Ethiopian man walked off to take my business class seat, and Elias and I took our aisle and window seats.

We got busy with the business of settling into a long flight, stowing luggage, getting the things we’d need, and chatting with other passengers. Soon they were announcing that the plane was closed and we were next for takeoff.

I placed the complimentary blanket over our laps and looked for Elias’s hand under it. He clutched it tight and brought our intertwined hands out from under the covers, placing them right where everyone could see. I looked around worriedly, but he shook his head.

“No more hiding.”

I nodded, my throat tightening. The plane taxied out before I could find my voice, and within seconds we were airborne.

Elias never let go of my hand.

I sat there waiting for the lights to go out, as if that were the sign, the confirmation this was actually happening.

As soon as they did, I turned around and pressed my face to his cheek. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He turned so that our lips were pressed to each other, and he mouthed the words.

Eshi, konjo.

Epilogue

New York City

August

“You’re going to be late for your first day of class,” I yelled from the kitchen.

After a few seconds Elias stepped out from our bedroom, looking delicious in a red T-shirt and jeans, his feet still bare. I smiled when I looked down at the “coffee bean” on his toe.

“If we’re late, it’s because someone woke up wanting to do things to me,” he said playfully, and put his arms around my waist.