Page 57 of The Yes Factor

As the coffee machine brews a steaming gurgle of coffee, I reach for my phone to text Liv. I know she’s probably landed in London by now, and I’m dying to share my news with her.

Hope ur flight was good! My flight was prob better! Devon sent me into orbit. I haven’t landed yet! Call me! Must give BIG report! Hahaha!

Love you

Miss you already

Thank you for being a friend. You always show up right when I need you.

Chapter Twenty-One

High Dive

LIV

The crash of the service trolley into the back of my seat jolts me awake. I blink into the bright light of morning, looking around at my fellow passengers who are placidly hunched over their tray tables, eating cold, chewy croissants, and sipping glowing orange juice. There’s no way I could have slept the whole flight. I have a new respect for the ’50s housewife drug of choice and wonder how hard it’ll be to get a valium prescription in London.

I try to get the attention of a flight attendant so I can have a cup of coffee, but she’s already sweeping through the cabin, dumping half-eaten breakfasts into the trash and hurriedly preparing for landing.

I peer out the window as we start the descent in to Heathrow, leaning forward to see beyond my window seat neighbor who’s reading the inflight magazine, every passenger’s last ditch effort to stay occupied before giving up and catatonically staring at the seat in front.

She puts the magazine down in her lap and pushes the window screen up all the way.

“There, now you can see what a beautiful English morning we’re coming home to,” she says with gentle sarcasm in a Queen Mother accent. “Are you looking forward to seeing Adam?” She gives me a little wink.

“Adam?”

“You were saying his name in your sleep. Sounds like somebody’s going to have quite the reunion today.”

“Oh, uh…Yes.” I’m at a total loss for words. I’ve been valium-high-altitude-sleep-talking about Adam! Maybe she didn’t hear me right.

As we taxi to the gate, the captain’s reassuring voice booms, “Welcome to London, folks. As you can see, we’ve got light rain. Temperature of about sixty degrees Fahrenheit, fifteen degrees Celsius. You may now use your mobile devices.”

Against a symphony of seat belts unsnapping, and chiming devices, I check my phone. A string of messages from Bex pops up, starting with:

Hope ur flight was good! My flight was prob better! Devon sent me into orbit.

Good on you, Bex. I smile and give a silent high five across the ocean. Then I stand up to get my carry-on bag from the overhead bin and join the shuffling line of passengers waiting to leave the plane, each one on their own journey—to rush for a connecting flight, to look for a chauffeur holding a sign with their name on it, or to be met by a partner, maybe even with flowers. And my journey…? I’m bouncing up and down on the high dive, getting ready to jump.