Above Us Only Sky (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 19 - Next Stop America

The sky was spitting snow when the Austin Princess slid to a smooth stop in front of Heathrow Terminal 3. In the back seat, Paul and Mal both patted their jacket pockets at the same time. Mal spoke first. "Got the tickets. Passport?"

Paul nodded and handed it over. "Here you go, mate."

He raised the collar of his overcoat, tightened the gray wool scarf around his neck, and adjusted the flat cap low on his head. In this weather everyone was bundled up. He'd easily make it inside the terminal without being recognized, but according to plan Mal would check them in and return with an airline rep to deliver them by car to the jet. Next stop America.

"Temperature all right back there?" the driver asked.

"Hunky-dory." Paul closed his eyes, leaned his head against the back of the leather seat, and settled in to wait and think about the momentous journey ahead of him. He would return to England a married man.

"Is this a shotgun wedding or summat?" Mike had asked when Paul called and told him they'd be flying to California first thing in the morning. "Are you sure about this? Aren't you going to miss having a random shag now and then?"

Paul assured him he'd had enough random shags to last a lifetime. For good measure, he reminded little brother of the time he'd had four in a bed. Three gorgeous blondes and Paul. That life was something, all right, but it was behind him now. Waking up to old drinks and strange ladies had worn thin. He'd happily trade that lifestyle for someone waiting at home every night with a hot meal and encouraging words and a warm bed. Someone who understood him, who he could trust, relax with, and be himself with. Someone to raise a family with. Someone with long, shiny hair, gorgeous legs, and amazing tits. Someone exactly like Marisol.

No, he wasn't nervous about becoming a married man. What did he have to lose, other than indiscriminate shagging? He was more anxious that Marisol would change her mind.

She had more to lose: her privacy, her anonymity, her friends and family in California. In exchange for the promise from him that he would love her forever and somehow protect her from the vultures that would descend the moment she stepped back on English soil.

He wondered what her family thought of these last-minute wedding plans. He'd soon find out. None of these American Hemingways were likely to keep anything to themselves.

So different from Jane's family. He remembered the careful way the Ashers were with one another, considering every word before they said it, treating each other as if they were made of blown glass.

His future American in-laws never hesitated to tell him what they thought, good or bad. At least he knew where he stood with them. And right now he'd bet his sweet English arse they were most displeased about their daughter's pretty face splashed across tabloids worldwide.

Mal opened the door and stood aside, letting in a gust of snow. When Paul didn't immediately follow, he stuck his head inside and grinned. "Having second thoughts?"

"Course not, you bloody fool." He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket. "Just don't want to forget anything."

"You look white as a ghost," Mal said. He was full of foolish grins and nudges which Paul ignored. He climbed out of the car and nodded at the airline representative.

"Mr. McCartney. If you'll follow me, we'll have you on your way in no time."

The airplane wasn't ready. The weather was uncooperative. But the agent was optimistic that it wouldn't be much of a delay. Paul was hustled through the crowded terminal to a private waiting room.