9
DAPHNE
Our plane descended past the golden glowing high rises visible through the first-class window, and I clamped down hard on Tony’s hand. The ascent taught me turbulence was not my friend. The aircraft lurched skyward, and I slapped my other palm on his arm, squeezing.
“Hey. It’s okay. It just bucks a little when we land. Airplanes are safer than cars.”
“Except if you do crash, you fall down and go splat,” I pointed out.
We didn’t though.
I survived my first plane ride. Tony led a very different life than mine.
A first-class, well-traveled life.
Standing beside him in the VIP line at the car rental, I noticed how my velour tracksuit differed from his business attire. The women he hung out with didn’t dress or act like me: a small-town hick with a degree.
But he never caused
