First Class Fling

Love wasn't on the menu...He served it anyway.

My family staged an intervention and called it a vacation.

Barcelona was supposed to fix me.

No work. No noise. No more sixteen-hour days ending with me in an empty bed, alone.

I agreed because fighting back took more energy than I had.

Then he sat beside me in first class.

A voice like Rioja, dark, smooth, slow to finish.

Eyes focused on mine when I should have looked away.

A stranger who felt like the beginning of something I forgot I wanted.

By the t...