If Only (GxG)

Chapter 45 Take Off

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Alison's POV

The airport buzzes with the low, constant hum of engines and announcements, but Blake's presence beside me—calm, elegant, steady—makes it all feel strangely quiet. My fingers tighten around the handle of my suitcase as we move through security and into the departures lounge.

I haven't flown since I was thirteen. Back then, it was a rushed, emotional trip with my mum—something I barely remember beyond the ache of it. This, though—this is different.

This is Blake.

This is Monaco.

And I want everything to be perfect.

I did my research. Extensively. I read articles, scanned blogs, saved every listicle about the best scenic walks and most romantic viewpoints. I know the museums, the food markets, even which side of the street to walk on. I brushed up on French. I watched three travel vlogs and took notes. I even downloaded a currency converter app, just in case.

Blake, meanwhile, looks like she just stepped out of a Bond film—dark sunglasses, navy linen trousers, crisp white blouse tucked effortlessly into the waistband, her overnight bag slung over one shoulder. She's impossibly calm. Unbothered. Like she boards private jets every Tuesday. (Honestly, she probably has.)

We settle into a quiet corner of the airport lounge with two sparkling waters and a plate of smoked salmon toast between us. I pull out my list for the fifth time, scanning over it, ticking one or two things with quick, efficient strokes. Sightseeing. Check. Suncream. Check. Converter plug. Double check.

"Darling," Blake says smoothly, popping a piece of toast into her mouth, "are you planning an invasion, or a weekend away?"

I blink up at her. "What?"

She gestures with her fork toward my notebook. "You've checked that list three times since we sat down. You're wound tighter than a Swiss watch."

I flush. "I just want everything to go smoothly."

Her eyes soften behind the rim of her glass. "It will."

"I haven't flown in years," I admit, quieter now. "I'm not nervous about the plane. I just... I want to be a good girlfriend. I want to do everything right. You've travelled so much and I haven't, and—"

Blake reaches across the table and places her hand over mine, gently stilling my pen.

"You already are the best girlfriend," she says firmly. "You're here. With me. That's what matters."

I open my mouth to argue, but she shakes her head and leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, I love watching you organise. It's very sexy."

I huff a laugh. "You're mocking me."

"I would never," she says, mock-offended. "Well, maybe a little."

I roll my eyes, but the tightness in my chest loosens a little.

She squeezes my hand. "You've got this, sweetheart. Just breathe. Monaco doesn't know what it's in for."

I smile, brushing a loose curl behind my ear. "Okay. But you're letting me drag you to the old palace museum."

"Deal," she says smoothly. "As long as I get to drag you to that rooftop cocktail bar afterward."

"Fine," I murmur, feeling the beginnings of a grin tugging at my mouth. "But I'm still making you try the Socca."

Blake raises a brow. "You've been studying."