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easier to know how your brain works.” He hands me the card, and I smile playfully in return before shoving the thing in my purse.
    “You think once the baby is born we can take more trips? I’d hate for this to be the only time I ever fly. Although, it is the most kick ass vacation ever.”
    “Mouth.”
    “Ass? That’s not that bad.”
    “Dean—”
    “They say it in on the radio. And on regularly scheduled programming.”
    I go to fuss at him when a girl, who can’t be much older than him, turns around from the seat in front of us, her face overly made up much like her overly lightened blonde highlights.
    Her hair looks like she has skunk stripes. No matter what magazines tell you, that’s not cute. Your hair doesn’t need landing strips for bird shit, which is what it looks like.
    “Did you say this is your first time flying?”
    Dean cocks a smirk and leans forward. “I did. Why? Wanna hold my hand for takeoff?”
    Sound familiar? It’s like living in the Matrix or something.
    She lets out a flirty giggle and I try to refrain from ruining this moment. “Well, if you come sit by me, maybe I will.”
    He shoots me a look and I roll my eyes again before nodding. She turns back around, which is when I grab the sleeve of his black polo shirt. In a stern voice I whisper, “Dean Kellar, I swear if you try to lose your virginity to join the Mile High Club, I will devise a punishment so severe and obscene that you may never wanna have sex again. Got it?”
    He gets a frightened look before nodding slowly.
    Good. Maybe that will slow down his unstoppable transformation into the next Logan Kellar.
    Once Dean gets settled next to the girl, who seems to be flying without a chaperone, I toss my head to look out the window after buckling my seatbelt, dread filling me up at steady rate.
    No, I don’t hate flying. I hate knowing that there’s a good chance that telling Logan I’m carrying his kid isn’t gonna go like some sort of grocery store paperback novel with him swooping me off my feet and rushing to the church. What? Be optimistic? Ha. Because when has that ever worked for me?
    ***
    With my bag swung over my shoulder, I head towards a blonde woman who is wearing a gray pinstriped skirt, a white button down shirt that is slightly unbuttoned to expose her obviously bought for boobs, and a pair of stilettos that would make Erin proud.
    She looks like she belongs on a slutty corporate America brochure.
    Putting the sign down she smiles. “Maxx?” I nod and she extends her hand for me to shake. “Which means you’re Dean.” After shaking his she introduces herself, “I’m Miranda, Jake’s personal assistant. He informed me to take you by the hotel to drop off your luggage before escorting you personally to the fight.” She turns quickly and begins walking at a speed that is hard to keep up with when your legs are only as long as a preschooler’s.
    Hey. I’m short! Tall people often forget that we can’t walk that fast! We require more steps, people! Our strides aren’t as long as yours.
    In this process, she leads us outside to a black stretch limo where the driver is holding the backseat door open. Before I even have a chance to react, Dean loses his composure. “A limo! We get to ride in a limo!”
    Miranda smiles and waves her hand for us to go ahead. Once we’re all inside and the vehicle is moving, Dean pushes his face against the glass, any possibility of hiding his excitement nonexistent.
    “Do you see that?” He points to a building in the distance. “What about that?” He points to something else. “Do you see that?”
    “Just because we’re in a different city doesn’t mean my eyes are broken, Kid.” I push my falling box frame glasses up.
    “Not just a different city…Vegas!” His eyes get huge. “Man, if I were a little older—”
    “I’d be a little more terrified.”
    The comment gets him to laugh and he ponders, “I wonder which of the guys from The Hangover I’d