Page 31 of That First Flight

I’m here.I’m finally here.

In the concrete jungle. The big apple. The city of dreams.

New York City.

I don’t know how long I spend taking it all in, but next thing I know we’re pulling inside a parking garage of what looks like a massive skyscraper.

“What is this place?”

“This is home,” he says.

Home.

Maybe to him this is home. This is where he’s planted his roots, built a life for himself and what I assume from the first time I met him—a successful one.

I can only hope to do the same here someday.

“This is where you live, Ollie?” Mackenzie asks.

He nods, steering the car into a spot that readsReserved for Oliver Fordon it. “It is.”

“This is wild,” she says to him. “I feel like this is a place where rich people live. Are you rich?”

He shrugs to brush it off. “You can say that.”

Hold the phone. Hewhat? No way. I mean… I assumed he was successful after seeing the very expensive watch he wore on the plane and the fact he ordered whiskey on the rocks not sitting in first class.

But to be… wealthy?

“You don’t look rich,” Mackenzie says before I have a chance to say anything.

“It’s not something I like to flaunt around. I’m grateful for it, but it’s not what makes me, me,” he says.

“Interesting…” she says in a very questioning tone like her little brain is spinning with what to say. But because she has absolutely no filter, she continues. “You know…my mom has a weakness for guys in gray suits though.”

“Is that so?” He raises a brow in her direction, pulling our bags out the back seat.

“Yup. That and guys who dress like they're going on a hike in the woods or something like that.”

I cover my eyes in complete embarrassment. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”

“What? You always told me to be honest.”

“Except there aresome things”—I say the last two words through gritted teeth—“that should be kept to ourselves, babe.”

Completely ignoring me, she walks over to Oliver to grab her backpack from his hands. “Does your place have cool purple walls and like a big window that you can sit on as you look out into the city streets and spy on people? You know, like that show my mom is always watching? I feel like all places in the city look like that.”

He lets out an amused chuckle. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s calledFriends. It’s so, so funny. Joey is totally my spirit animal. And he loves food as much as I love food. Come to think of it”—her fingers graze her chin—“you kind of remind me of him, actually. Tell me you have a pet duck. That would be epic.”

“I wish I did.” He laughs. “That would be the coolest pet. But now I need to watch this show to see for myself about this Joey guy. I’m one of a kind, Kenzie.”

I internally cringe at him for calling her Kenzie. I know that she loathes when people use a name on her that is anything other than her birth name. She knows she has a long name, but can’t stand when people shorten it. She’s also bold enough to call people out on it so they don’t call her—

“What about tonight?” she replies back to him, Which is not the response I was thinking she was going to say. I truly believed she was about to school him and give him hell for the nickname like she does everyone else.

“Not tonight,” I tell her. “It’s really late and you need some sleep.”

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