I want

I’d never flown in a private jet before. From Sydney, I flew to Hawaii, where I switched planes and pilots. The second flight took me to Dallas’s Love Field, where I changed pilots and planes again. No waiting. No lines. No delays. I made the normal twenty-hour return to Chicago in under fifteen.

When the plane landed, I limped slightly as I walked down the jetway. Sitting for an entire day had stiffened my body. The bruises on my palms and rear end ached. Sore muscles complained when I collected my backpack from the attendant.

On the tarmac, a black Mercedes waited with the driver standing beside it. Travis took my backpack and pretended to sink under the weight of it.

Though he relieved my ankle, I said, “I can carry that. It shouldn’t be too heavy for you.”

“Did you pack rocks in here? How long were you gone?” Travis joked.

“Two days. Three if you count the flights.”

“We missed you.” With a smile, he heaved the bulky backpack into the trunk of the car.

“Thanks, Travis.”

Once on