Amber grinned and gave Destiny a one-armed hug as they moved into the living room.
“And you?” Destiny asked, brows going up as they each took a seat.
“Cole stayed the night.”
“So it’s better? You’ve made up?”
“Made up is not the right phrase. We didn’t, don’t have a relationship.”
“What is it you have?”
Amber thought back to Cole’s words last night in the tub. “I don’t know. A mutual problem?”
“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
Maybe not, but Amber was determined to see it for what it was and enjoy it for what it was. Last night with Cole had been amazing, and this morning had been fun. There was no point in speculating beyond that.
“You want coffee?” she asked Destiny.
“Please.”
As Amber rose, she heard a phone ring from inside the kitchen and recognized it as Cole’s. Destiny followed behind her into the kitchen and took a seat at the island counter, where Zachary was in his high chair playing with a little pile of breakfast cereal rounds.
“When?” Cole asked into the phone. His tone was serious, and he gave a sideways glance to Amber.
She instantly knew something was wrong.
She glanced reflexively at Zachary, grateful he was right here beside her where she could see he was fine.
“How many?” Cole asked.
Amber found herself moving toward him.
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you sure?” He paused. “Hundred percent?” He breathed a sigh. “Yeah. I will. You’ve got it. Call me if you hear anything else.”
“What is it?” Amber asked, holding her breath.
“There was another hydraulic problem with a Boonsome 300.”
Her tone went hushed. “The same thing?”
Cole nodded. “Astra Airlines. The flight was coming into O’Hare.”
“Has it landed?” She swallowed. She couldn’t bring herself to use the word crashed.
“Belly landing onto foam. Everyone got out, but there was a fire. The plane’s destroyed. The federal government has grounded the Boonsomes, and they need complete access to the Coast Eagle plane at LAX.”
“Absolutely,” said Amber. “Whatever they need.”
She stopped speaking and sucked in gulps of air, her mind galloping to what-if scenarios. What if she hadn’t grounded the Coast Eagle fleet? Her decision had been based on her gut feeling, not on any technical expertise. She was an accountant, not an aviation specialist. What if she’d made the wrong choice, and a Coast Eagle flight had crashed and killed the passengers?
She felt the room spin around her, and a wave of nausea cramped her stomach.