Page 118 of The Sun and Her Star

“Not at all. It’s better to be skeptical. And we can stop for coffee on the way to Teterboro.”

“The airport? In New Jersey?”

“Yes, Ms. Locklear. My car is downstairs. It’s the dark gray SUV parked right in front of your door with the hazards on.”

“Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. And by a minute, I mean, more like ten.”

“Take your time.” He nods his dark head and turns to leave.

I shut the door and then lean back against it.

“Oh, yeah. I am so ready.”

* * *

“Put on your big girl panties, Apollo,” I tell myself before I start to climb the steps of Graham’s plane. Our flight leaves in an hour, and they invited me to board. He’s not here yet, and my legs wobble a little as I climb the steps.

“Welcome aboard, Ms. Locklear.” A pretty blonde woman in a startling white skirt suit smiles widely as I step into the galley.

“You were … expecting me?” I return her smile, but inside, my nerves are going crazy.

“Of course,” she says chirpily.

My nerves turn to bubbles of anticipation.

God, I love him so much. I could swoon from the shivers that run up my spine just thinking about seeing him again.

“I’m Victoria, and I’m one of three crew on board this flight. May I take your bag?” I hand her the small carry-on I’m rolling behind. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” She smiles like she means it. “You can make yourself comfortable in the main cabin. On the other side of the rear wall, there’s a master bedroom with a queen-sized bed and en suite bathroom that you can use to freshen up if you’d like. We only ask that you remain seated during takeoff and landing. You can help yourself to any of the refreshments we’ve laid out. And there’s a menu tucked into the pockets on the side of your seat. Mr. Davis already ordered your lunch, but feel free to peruse in case you’d like us to prepare anything else.” She rattles off her spiel and somehow manages to make it sound like I’m the first and only person she’s ever said it to.

“Thank you.” I smile pleasantly and slip out of my coat and run my hand down the front of my white dress and smooth my hair down.

I step inside the cabin and stop dead in my tracks. My trust income provides me with a very handsome living and the gallery turns a healthy profit every month, but for me, traveling in style means upgrading to first class.

This plane is the epitome of luxury. I step into what looks more like an elegantly decorated living room than it does a plane. A pair of cream sofas, both littered with red cushions face each other in the center of the room.

On the left of the cabin, under a row of large windows, is a long table. It is lined with platters of food and every kind of bottled drink ever made. Behind it is a booth, like what you’d find in a restaurant, except the cushions are royal blue velvet trimmed with gold brocade and the table in between is a glass top and set with very formal place settings. On the other side of the room is a bar. Fully stocked with four stools in front of it.

The room has a wall that has a door on either side. A huge television is mounted on it. A message is displayed on the screen.

“Welcome aboard the Dream Jet, Mr. Davis and Ms. Locklear. Our flight time today is three hours and twenty-five minutes. We will land in Miami at approximately two p.m. pacific standard time. Your drive to Islamorada will be approximately two hours.”

We’re going to Islamorada. And we’ll be on the plane alone for three hours.

I walk over to the row of white leather and red trimmed chairs that face the screen, sit down, cross my legs, and wait.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve made myself crazy and feel like I’m coming out of my skin. I jump up every time I heard a voice from the galley. All I’ve succeeded in doing is making myself look like I’m high on amphetamines and terrifying the poor crew members I’ve practically pounced on.

After the fourth time, Victoria brings me a glass of wine.

That was three glasses ago.

I’ve chewed my bottom lip raw. My hair, which when I’d boarded was fabulously blown out, is now gathered into a messy bun on top of my head.

“Graham, I’m at the airport,” I say as soon as the call engages.

“I know, Sunshine.” I scream and toss my phone in the air before I pop out my seat and turn around.

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