Hours pass. The longer I go without telling her I have feelings for her the worse it gets. I’m unsure how to undo the damage I've done by making her agree to this arrangement, and it only makes me feel sicker.

I go to the bedroom door several times but chicken out before I can knock or open it. When we're six hours into the fourteen-hour flight, I finally get sick of my inability to be a man.

I've never felt so nervous. I rise, go to the bedroom door, then knock softly.

She doesn't answer.

I knock again, this time louder, but no sound comes from inside. I slowly open the door, slip into the room, and lock the latch.

It's dark, but Georgia's white dress glows from the little light streaming in from the blinds. She's curled on the bed, hugging a pillow.

She's so quiet, I barely hear her raspy whisper, "Why are you here, Sebastian?"

I lie on the bed, slide my arm under her, and wrap my other around her. I inhale her sugary-rose scent, then kiss her on the head.

"Why?" she repeats.

I realize this is my moment of truth. I either lay my cards on the table, or I'm never getting things back to where they were between us. So I flip onto my back and tug her toward me.

She takes a shaky breath. Her lashes are wet, and her mascara is smudged under her eyes.

I scoot down, so my face is in front of hers, and reach for her cheek.

She closes her eyes and sighs. She states, "I can't do this, Sebastian. I thought I could, but I can't. Not like this."

My stomach dives. I blurt out, "I like you, Georgia. A lot. More than anyone I've ever dated or was engaged to."

She holds her breath.

I continue, "I wish you never signed the contract. More than anything, I wish we could start all over."

She blinks hard, then says, "We can't, can we?"

"No. I messed that up for us," I admit, tracing her lip with my thumb.

She presses her palm on my chest and traces the outline of my shirt. Zings erupt under her finger, and my heart races faster. She states, "You didn't do this alone, Sebastian. I agreed to it."

The hum of the engine is the only sound filling the air. A million thoughts spin in my mind, but no solutions to our problem appear. I finally say, "You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen. And I mean that. You stole my breath when I saw you."

Her eyes glisten more. A tiny smile erupts on her lips, giving me a twinge of joy. She continues moving her finger over my skin and states, "You clean up well too."

More time passes, and neither of us tear our gaze off the other.

"I hate how I couldn't give you the wedding you deserved."