She was grumpy and underslept by the time they arrived at O’Hare, which was an absolute zoo. The TSA lines were unreal, and she was beginning to get worried they would miss their plane by the time they finally got to the front of the line.
When they got to their gate, they sat in the uncomfortable black chairs closest to the podium.
“What group are you in?”
“Four,” he said.
“Four? You’re flying economy?”
The amusement that pulled at the corner of his mouth was distracting. “Yes, Sam.”
“Like, not to be gauche or anything, but you’re kind of rich.”
“I don’t see the point of spending my riches on what is essentially a chair hovering 36,000 feet above the ground. I’m 36,000 feet above the ground whether I’m in a fancy chair or not.”
“You get to board first. And they give you champagne.”
“Are you in boarding group one?”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “Because the whole rest of this road trip was paid for, plus part of this ticket as well. Also, it’s fancy. So.”
Now she felt the need to justify it.
“Right. Well, enjoy.”
She got up when her group was called and sat happily in her seat. She lifted her glass of champagne when Logan walked by ten minutes later. He gave her that same half smile he’d given her at the diner a few days ago, and her stomach did the exact same thing.
Maybe that was why when she got served ice cream for dessert after what was a very lovely meal, she bought Wi-Fi for the sole purpose of texting him a picture. He sent back a middle finger emoji.
She smiled, and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes.
The first journey was done. She would get a break now.
Yes, some of that involved facing parts of her life she didn’t especially want to face. But she could handle it. She had to.
She had felt, often, that she was more grown-up than most women her age. Than most people her age. After all, she had thrown herself into adulthood as a teenager. Right then, she felt like this was maybe her first step into something even more grown-up. She couldn’t explain it.
Bringing up the past with Logan made the future feel a lot more precarious than she’d imagined it could feel.
She’d been totally certain of where she wanted to end up at the end of the summer.
Why did one memory have the power to change that?
SEVENTEEN
Oregon Trail route
1962 Ferrari Spyder
Now
A two-week break didn’t help. She’d spent the time in a vacation rental on the Olympic Peninsula because it seemed like a fun place to go, and she’d written a piece about the first road trip—focusing on the sights and the car, and not the personal parts.
She ended up selling it to one of sites she worked with often, with the grabby headerI Went Cross-Country in a Classic Car—Here’s What I Learned.
She’d said she learned how to pack efficiently and where to get the best coffee.
She was lying a little. She thought again about what Logan had said—about writing a book.
