18
Emma
I should be mad, upset that I’d been outmaneuvered so skillfully, but as we board Marcus’s private jet, I can’t help but be grateful that we’d had those extra few hours with my grandparents—and that I don’t have to part from Marcus quite yet. As excited as I am to see my fur babies tonight, I’m dreading having to sleep alone in my cold, lumpy bed.
And then, of course, there’s the fact that I’m flying on a freaking private jet. As much as I’d like to pretend such over-the-top luxuries hold little interest for me, I can’t lie to myself.
Private planes are awesome.
First of all, we drive up right to the plane. No security lines, nothing—we step out of the car and board right away. I guess the thought process here is that the jet owner is not likely to blow up his own plane.
Then
