chosen to.
“All right,” he said.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“I want to.”
“But?”
“But you’ve spent months having information taken out of your hands. I’m not going to do the same thing.”
That landed harder than I expected.
I looked away.
“Then answer the seat question.”
Adrian rubbed one hand over his face.
“My assistant booked the ticket.”
“Name?”
“Claire.”
“Did she choose fourteen B?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was someone else supposed to sit there before you?”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I changed flights.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
A different kind of tension entered the hallway.
“Why?”
“My original flight was delayed. I had a meeting in Houston tonight.”
“So you moved onto mine?”
“Yes.”
“How close to departure?”
“Less than two hours.”
I tried to remember boarding.
The exhausted man beside me.
The navy jacket.
The ridiculous napkin animals.
“If you
