(ASA)
On the car ride to the airport, Zev was very businesslike. Yesterday, he'd opened up to me.
He'd been warmer than usual, and that had given me hope that we'd actually be able to move forward with each other. But now he was back to his more distant version of himself. Perhaps that was simply because he was in work mode. I needed to remember that while this was a vacation for me, this was a working trip for him.
I was surprised to find we weren't flying on a commercial airline. Zev had his own jet. I'd never even flown before, and my heart sped as we climbed aboard the sleek plane. There was cherry wood paneling, and the luxurious chairs were white leather with TV screens attached to the seat in front. A stewardess in a tight navy-blue dress greeted us with champagne.
"Welcome aboard again, Mr. Cross." She turned to also smile at me. "And wonderful to meet you, Asa."
"Thank you," I mumbled, taking one of the flutes of bubbly.
