AllFreeNovel
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“Hold off on that statement until you get off the plane. I’m pretty sure the smell alone will convince you otherwise.”
“What kind of person hates New York?”
“The same kind who loves Chicago.”
“Take that back!” I lean over and smack his shoulder.
He grins. “Nope. Not until you come with me to Chicago and confirm what I already know.”
I’m pretty sure my heart might burst at Rowan’s idea. Planning ahead seems to add another layer to ourcasual but doesn’t feel casualrelationship.
“People can’t take off and fly away whenever the feeling strikes.”
His head tilts. “Why not?”
“Because we have jobs and responsibilities.”
“Leave dealing with your boss to me.”
I shake my head, pretending to be disgusted, yet my heart accelerates in my chest.
Our conversation is cut off too soon by the pilot announcing it’s safe to take off our seat belts.
The flight attendant opens the cabin door and all I see is white.
“Snow! Real snow!” I take the steps two at a time and pick up a handful of glittering snow.
Rowan stops beside me. “We got lucky.”
“Lucky? How?”
His eyes stay glued to my smile. “There usually isn’t snow this early in the season but they just had a storm the other day.”
“If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” I throw the snow in the air and watch it all fall around me like powder.
I close my eyes and laugh, only to open them to find Rowan staring at me.
The staff makes quick work of our luggage, and before I can blink, Rowan has us settled into the back of a town car. He clutches onto my hand and draws idle circles with his thumb. Each rotation sends a jolt of energy shooting up my arm.
I stare out the window the entire time, taking in the bright lights and endless amounts of people. It reminds me of the Dreamland crowds, but more aggressive. Like people have places to go and people to see, so everyone needs to get the hell out of their way.
I absolutely love it.
We pull into the valet of some high-rise building covered in glass and steel.
“You livehere?” I crane my neck back, taking in how the skyscraper touches a cloud. A real freaking cloud!
He shrugs. “Sometimes. It’s one of my homes.”
“One?!”
He shrugs.
“What’s it like to have more money than God?”
“Lonely.” His word carries enough heaviness to taint the air around us.
I’m tempted to wrap my arms around him to give him a squeeze. I can’t begin to imagine how isolating it is to be surrounded by so much wealth to the point that people stop treating him like a real person. After Rowan’s confession, I make a promise to myself to stop gawking at everything like it might disappear any second.
