I finally wake up before my brain has tricked me into thinking I’m making out with an air hostess too. My neck feels like it’s been glued around someone else’s for at least two days. Moving it is going to hurt like a bitch, but I have to do it. I let out a groan as I roll it around. The elderly woman sitting on my right purses her lips at me in disapproval. Hopefully, I wasn’t doing anything that made it obvious I was having hot, but also mildly disturbing, kissing dreams. The thirteen-year-old kid to my left has his headphones in and has been playing video games this whole time, so at least I won’t be accused of corrupting any young minds. (Though judging by what little I can see of his game, it looks like it might be dirtier than anything my thirty-one-year-old brain can dream up anyway.)

I look past the older woman out the window and see the flat landscape, brown faux Tuscan-style architecture, and bright blue backyard pool rectangles of Fort Lauderdale drawing ever closer.

I purchased my ticket at one a.m. last night, which is how I ended up in the middle seat. I hadn’t been able to sleep. Suddenly, the thought of Zoey and her surprising lips being just a thin wall away from me was too much to bear. It didn’t help that I could hear what sounded like a lot of laughter coming from her apartment—and I didn’t think it was her television. If I let myself think too hard about it, I was sure I’d convince myself that it was tinged with flirtiness too. She was with someone.

Why should I care?

It was a disturbing cycle of thought that was never going to end until I went online, purchased the ticket, and decided to remove myself from the situation as quickly as possible.

I texted my mom at seven thirty this morning with a Surprise! I’m due to land in three hours. She was ecstatic. It made me smile too. After all, I had promised to visit them before the summer was up. I was just fulfilling my prodigal son duties, not running away from . . . whatever.

I was already at my departure gate when Leanne’s e-mails came through. I had no idea I’d be her emergency contact so I just hoped nothing came up for the two hours I was in the air, especially since I’d neglected to tell my boss that I’d be out of town for a few days. But, then again, isn’t the beauty of working remotely that there is no out-of-town/out-of-office to worry about? I check my inbox as soon as I land and am relieved to see it devoid of anything urgent.