I love the smell of leather. I wonder if this is why it laces through Morgan’s scent—she probably spends a lot of time on her jet.
“Would you like me to make it fair?” Morgan teases, sinking down into an armchair and turning back to face me.
A glass of champagne waits in her cup holder, and there’s one for me in the matching chair.
This plane makes first class look like coach.
“To be entirely honest with you… No.”
“That’s what I thought. Sit.”
I take the armchair next to Morgan, and it’s insanely comfortable. Like a cloud made of leather, if that’s even possible. The champagne washes over my tongue, bubbles soothing my dry throat. It’s early enough that I might still be the tiiiniest bit drunk from last night, but there’s a bottle of spring waterin the cup holder by the window ready to ease my impending hangover.
At the same time, I realize that for as guilty as I feel every time I buy a disposable water bottle, that impact is minuscule compared to all the bottles rich people must go through on a daily basis.
Does Morgan even drink tap water? Like, ever?
I crack open the spring water, knowing I’m going to be so spoiled by the end of this.
Chapter 13
MORGAN
Jamie practically smashes his face against the window as the plane starts to taxi. He just sits and watches all the way up to our cruising altitude.
I remember staring out the window like that when I was a kid. Father would always scold me to keep working on school. I’d sneak glances when he wasn’t looking.
I close my laptop and step over to sit in the chair facing Jamie.
As he notices, his spine tenses, but then he relaxes as I look out my own window and ask, “You like the view?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Let’s see…” I give him a brief tour of the landscape beneath us. I name the river that winds through verdant farmland, the mountains wreathed in grey-blue mist beyond it, and rattle off a few of the villages along this stretch.
“Wow… how do you know all that?”
The easy answer slides across my tongue. But I answer honestly instead. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cartographer. I demanded a survey set for Christmas, and whenI got a pony instead, I threw such a fit that Father sent out his assistant to borrow one from the local city planning department. I spent the next six months making hand-drawn maps of the estate.”
“A survey setismore exciting than a toy.”
“Hm? It was a real pony.”
Jamie’s eyes widen.
“You’re thinking I sound spoiled,” I say.
“No,” Jamie says quickly. Unconvincingly.
I raise an eyebrow.
Jamie cracks a smile. “Well. Yes. Areal pony?”
“She was a little bitch. Bitey. After I made it clear that I wasn’t going to ride her, I made Father get a mini cow to keep her company.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
