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ad bin. I take my cushy first-class seat and look out the window and then at the empty seat across the aisle from me.
“Wait!” a woman yells, catching everyone’s attention. “Wait for me!”
I look up and see a flash of brown, wavy hair. My heart stops and then starts beating again when a woman walks through the corridor and plops down in the seat across from me.
She blows a chunk of hair out of her face, looks at me, and smiles. “That was a close one. I almost didn’t make it.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too.” She laughs and relaxes in her seat, her warm, brown eyes smiling at me. “My name is Carly.”
“Aiden.”
“Traveling alone?”
“Yep.”
“Me, too. I’m going home to visit my family,” she says.
“You grew up there?” I ask as the pilot announces takeoff, and the attendants begin their normal routine.
“Yes. I moved to Chicago four years ago for school, fell in love with the city, and decided to stay.”
“Do you miss being at home?”
She shrugs. “Sometimes, but I took a chance, and now I’m happy doing what I love.”
“No regrets?”
“Not one. Life is too short to have regrets. Enough about me. Why are you going to San Francisco?”
I normally don’t open up to strangers, especially on a flight, but I like Carly. She’s nice and seems genuine, and I find myself telling her everything as we take off down the runway.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in the air. When the flight attendant walks by, Carly orders two beers, and when they’re dropped off, she hands one to me.
“To going home,” she says, holding her bottle out.
I tap the neck of my bottle to hers. “To new beginnings.”
“Holy shit.” I look up and up and up at the skyrise. “This place is huge.”
“Wait until you see the inside,” a man in a suit says as he opens the front door of the monstrous building.
“Thank you.” I slip inside and grab the first elevator I see.
The flight this morning was easy. Carly and I chatted the whole way, and she wished me luck when we parted ways at the airport. I had a few hours to kill before my meeting, so I checked out the penthouse where I’ll be staying and grabbed a bite to eat. Now, it’s time to meet with Ryan and get the ball rolling.
With a soft ding, the elevator doors open. The office I walk into is quiet, but loud with colors and video game graphics on the walls. A middle-aged woman smiles at me from behind a large desk.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“My name is Aiden Wallace. I’m here to meet with Ryan.”
“Oh, yes.” She stands up and walks around the desk. “He’s told us so much about you. Welcome,” she says, leading me down a small hall. “How was your flight?”
“Great.”
“And the penthouse?”
