Sixty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Sixty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Sixty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventy-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Eighty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments & A Personal Note (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Buffalo, New York
You’re not going to die today.
Kayla repeated her prayer as the boarding call for her flight at Buffalo Niagara International Airport was announced. Her thoughts raced as she clutched her boarding pass and ID while inching through the line to Gate 20. After the gate agent had cleared her, Kayla felt Logan’s reassuring hand on her shoulder as they walked along the jetway to their plane.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said.
She offered him a weak smile. Drawing on the advice she’d absorbed from her motivational books and recordings, she fought her fear of flying by repeating her mantra.
I can do this. I’ve faced worse.
The jet was a new-model regional aircraft with eighty-six passenger seats, and today’s flight was full. Their seats were in the fourteenth row on the left side. Logan took the aisle. Kayla took the window.
After they’d stowed their bags overhead Kayla buckled her belt and continued battling her anxiety by attacking her scariest thoughts.
This plane is not going to crash. I’m safe. My boyfriend’s with me.
Logan took her hand in his and tried to calm her.
“Remember how important this trip is? Just think about that.”
Kayla nodded, concentrating on the reason why she had to get on this plane: because her dream was within her grasp. Tomorrow morning in New York City, she’d be interviewed for a position with a rising new fashion designer, Maly Kriz-Janda. The house had offices in London, Paris and Milan. It had recently opened a Manhattan office and was hiring new designers.
The jet’s door was shut and locked. An inboard chime sounded followed by an announcement.
“Flight attendants, prepare for departure.”
The attendants ensured the overhead bin doors were closed and seats and trays were up as the plane pushed back from the gate. The cabin lights flickered as the engines came on and the plane taxied out.
“Logan, the wings are bouncing.”
“It’s okay. They’re built to flex like that. It’s normal.”
As the attendants gave safety demonstrations about seat belts, flotation devices and emergency exits, for use “in the unlikely event...” Kayla heard the hydraulic moan of the flaps as they were adjusted by the pilot. The plane turned then stopped for several moments. As the engines whined louder another chime sounded.
“Attendants, prepare for takeoff.”
The knot in Kayla’s stomach tightened as the plane began rolling down the runway, slowly at first, gaining speed then accelerating faster, the ground blurring beneath them. Kayla struggled to control her breathing as the jet’s nose rose before she heard a thud when the weight lifted from the landing gear and the plane left the ground.
The thrust was overwhelming as the force of the climb pushed her into her seat. Kayla heard the groan and bump of the landing gear’s retraction. She squeezed Logan’s hand, shutting her eyes for a moment. Somehow, she found the strength to peek down at the earth, the expressways, buildings and suburbs rapidly shrinking below.
I can do this. I can do this.
As the plane leveled off, Kayla took a deep breath to calm herself, and the flight attendant made a series of announcements about keeping seat belts fastened, using electronic devices and the upcoming in-flight refreshment service.
“How’re you doing?” Logan asked.
Kayla nodded stiffly, smiling, still gripping his hand as he lowered his tray with his other hand.
“I’m getting some tomato juice,” he said. “What about you?”