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gawks at the phone. Declan pivots back, tight jaw now loose and practically on the floor.
    “Mr. McCormick? You and Mrs. McCormick need to fasten your seat belts.”
    “In bed ?” I eye the mattress with a new sense of respect. 
    “No, Mrs. McCormick.” Mrs. McCormick . A chill runs thorough me. She points to two upholstered chairs next to a lovely oak table. “Those are the takeoff and landing seats.”
    “GERALDO RIVERA?” Declan shouts, the non sequitur confusing the poor attendant.
    I give her a gentle nudge out the door and assure her we’ll be fine. The hum of the engines is revving up and I tug on Dec’s hand, leading him to the seats. He grabs my phone and takes it off speakerphone.
    “Listen,” he snaps. “We know that Marie knows we’re going to Vegas. How in the hell did that happen?”
    Mumble mumble mumble mumble.
    “She looked at Amanda and figured it out?” Declan says with a derisive snort. 
    I knew it. Amanda is the weakest link after all.
    Declan looks at me. “Should we reroute?”
    “Reroute? What?”
    “Go somewhere else to get married. Not Vegas. They know we’re headed there.”
    My hand brushes against a black remote control and I look up, seeing a small screen attached to the wall. Pushing the power button on, an action I will deeply regret in a moment, I flip to the news stations. 
    My mother’s giant head fills the screen.
    “Have Andrew lie. He can tell her we’re going to Atlantic City instead.” 
    Declan’s face brightens and he mutters into the phone as I take my seat. A few exchanges later and he hands me my phone, settling into his own seat for takeoff.
    “She’s not stupid,” he muses, thinking this through. “She’ll figure it out soon. And Anterdec has a great property in Vegas.” He puffs up like a silverback gorilla protecting a harem. “The finest resort on the Strip. We can hide there.” 
    “Daddy will try to talk some reason into her. Besides, it’s not like she and my father have piles of money to come chasing after us,” I say, giggling with the absurdity of all this. “They will run out of funds faster than Anterdec will.”
    Declan blinks. “Andrew’s letting her use the other jet.”
    “What? I thought it was in Central America on a humanitarian mission!”
    “It happened to finish early. Landing in Boston in about three hours.”
    “Then assign it to another mission!”
    “That’s not how this works.”
    “Make it work that way! Lord knows there’s always another natural disaster somewhere that needs your plane to deliver supplies, and if there isn’t, create one.” 
    “I can’t create a natural disaster, Shannon.”
    “Sure you can! Corporations do it all the time! Conglomerates are more powerful than governments! Mom can’t have access to an entire corporate jet, so do whatever it takes.”
    “She can when she’s driving Andrew nuts. He’ll say anything to get her to leave him and Amanda alone.”
    “What does Amanda have to do with this?” 
    His answer is eaten by the roar of the plane engines as we lift off, the rumble of the plane’s effort to stay steady and adjust to the cross-winds turning my already-jangled nerves into a ball of nausea. So much of the day has turned into a circus. A farce. An abomination and distortion of everything I know, and as the plane takes off the ugly tears hit me, driving hard through my body, sending me into a wretched, breath-holding sob that feels like I’m dying.
    Declan’s face, etched with alarm as he watches me, breaks my heart, because I’ve never seen him so helpless.
    He comforts me the only way you can when you’re on a private corporate jet, escaping your own wedding.
    In bed.

Chapter Five
    Bedrooms on planes should be a requirement. Like landing gear, seat cushions as flotation devices, and microscopic packets of peanuts, bedrooms need to be on every plane.
    “I’m officially a member of the Mile-High Club,” I crow, snuggled next to Declan, both of us naked