“Honestly, I’m fine here in business class. Can’t you just go back to the customer and tell them to give it to someone else?” Because now I was envisioning an hours-long plane ride next to someone I didn’t know, who wanted to chat instead of letting me sleep.

“No, Mr. Martinez. This passenger gifted the seat to you specifically.”

I narrowed my eyes at the flight attendant. There was no good explanation for why this person chose me, but there was a line queueing up behind us, and it wasn’t worth holding everyone up.

“Fine,” I said while collecting my carry-on and laptop bags. “After you.”

The flight attendant beamed as she escorted me from the very last business-class seat up to the curtain that separated it from the first-class section.

“So what happens to my seat?” I asked as she pulled back the curtain. I knew it was disrespectful to react this way to a gift, but I couldn’t help feeling irritated.

“You can be refunded, or you can pay it forward by gifting it to another passenger.”

“Paying it forward seems like the right thing to do.”

“That’s very generous of you, sir.”

“And you can’t tell me how I was chosen or why?” I asked, following her into the quiet spacious cabin filled with just four rows of wide, comfortable seats.

“Well,” she said, stopping next to a row near the middle. “You’ll just have to ask her yourself.” She gestured in the direction of my seatmate. It was a woman, but I could only see the back of her head. Then she stood and turned to face me, and all the air left my lungs.

Copper brown eyes, that nose she’d given to her son, lips and a smile that I’d fallen asleep dreaming about more nights than I could count. “Darcy?” I croaked in disbelief.

“Hey, Tommy,” she said with a shrug and a nervous smile. “Surprise?”

I blinked and then blinked again because this had to be a dream, right? I was already asleep back in business class, and I was dreaming about her pulling this stunt because this couldn’t be real life.

“I know this is unexpected and kind of reckless. Hell, maybe you’re still upset with me, and you don’t want this—”

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand to stop her nervous rambling. “Want what? What is even going on?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You’re coming with me?” I parroted. Did that mean what I thought it meant? My heart was pounding so loudly that I could barely hear her or make sense of my own thoughts.

Darcy took my hand, and that skin-to-skin contact made me aware of her in a way that the shock had dampened. That scent of hers — the expensive perfume that was like roses or magnolias — filled the space between our bodies.