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So after a quick catered lunch on the balcony overlooking the harbor, we took limos to the airport and boarded the Gulfstream jet. And soon we were in the air heading for America.I'd taken two transatlantic plane rides in the past month or so. The first one had been from Athens to New York, when Cassandra had first come to fetch me home. And the second had been just days ago, flying off to Paris to rescue Cassandra.Both times, I'd been conscious of the unspoken pecking order that had developed among the girls accompanying me. Through veiled looks or merely confident movements, these women self-organized who was sitting where, and it was no different for this flight home.I had a regular seat on the plane. It had been my seat for both the previous trips, with Cassandra by my side for the Athens-return and Taylor with me for destination-Paris. But Cassandra didn't lead me to it this time. Instead, she pulled me directly over to one of the long sofas built lengthwise along the side wall,. Inhaling deeply, she reflected that Nate had managed to treat her better in one night than any other man in her life. She held on to the rose as she flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV, wanting to see what the news from Iraq was. It was such a deeply ingrained habit that even with Nate home, she watched regardless. She stared at the screen, idly stroking the rose down her cheek, relishing its softness, so absorbed the news that she never noticed the shower turning off. When Nate walked out in only his camo pants, with a towel slung around his neck, his muscled chest still beaded with water, she was laying on the couch, dozing from exhaustion. Since she hadn’t noticed him walk out, he took the moment to look at her, and soak in the idea that this woman was all his. As if on cue, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. He walked to the couch and settled into the spot that she had just moved from, grinning when she cuddled up to him. She nuzzled his neck, then tipped her head.
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