I stared at him.
And for the first time in nearly four hours, I didn’t apologize.
The strange thing was that our flight had started perfectly pleasantly.
When Josh first reached our row, he smiled.
“Looks like we’re neighbors.”
I moved my handbag from the middle seat.
“For the next six hours.”
He laughed.
“I’m Josh.”
“Celeste.”
He was probably around fifty.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Expensive quarter-zip sweater.
Polished loafers.
The kind of man who looked as though he traveled often and expected things to go smoothly.
He nodded toward my window seat.
“You got the good one.”
“My daughter insisted.”
“Smart daughter.”
“She thought I’d enjoy the clouds.”
The older man in the aisle seat introduced himself as Henry.
He had a paperback under one arm and seemed perfectly content to spend the flight buried in it.
“Vacation?” he asked me.
“Something better.”
“What’s that?”
