A stranger beside me on a flight asked, “Could you pretend you fell asleep on my shoulder?” I almost said no. I had just left Chicago with my five-year-old daughter, two suitcases, and a marriage that had fallen apart three days earlier. But I agreed. Two hours later, I woke up still leaning against him—and discovered the quiet man beside me was one of the country’s best-known billionaires. Then my phone reconnected, and a message from my ex-husband appeared: I KNOW YOU TOOK FIONA TO NEW YORK.

would have explained.

Defended.

Listed every thing he had done until he finally admitted that I was right.

I no longer needed that.

“I’m getting there,” I said.

Then I walked away.

Luca was waiting downstairs.

He had not attended the settlement meeting.

That had been my choice.

When I got into the car, he looked at me.

“Done?”

“Done.”

“How do you feel?”

I thought about it.

“Hungry.”

He smiled.

“That I can fix.”

We went to a diner.

Not a private club.

Not a restaurant with a month-long reservation list.

A diner near the lake where Fiona ordered chocolate chip pancakes at four in the afternoon.

Luca stole one of my fries.

I slapped his hand.

Fiona laughed so hard she nearly dropped her fork.

It was one of the best meals I had eaten in years.

By then, Luca and I had known each other for almost