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it will be fifty-two years together.”
    “Wow,” Oliver says. “That’s amazing.”
    “I wouldn’t call it amazing,” the woman says, blinking. “It’s easy when you find the right person.”
    The aisle is now clear except for the flight attendants, who are marching up and down on seat-belt patrol, and the woman pulls a water bottle out of her purse, then opens her wrinkled palm to reveal a sleeping pill.
    “When you’re on the other side of it,” she says, “fifty-two years can seem like about fifty-two minutes.” She tips her head back and swallows the pill. “Just like when you’re
young
and in love, a seven-hour plane ride can seem like a lifetime.”
    Oliver pats his knees, which are shoved up against the seat in front of him. “Hope not,” he jokes, but the woman only smiles.
    “I have no doubt,” she says, stuffing a yellow earplug into one ear, and then repeating the gesture on the other side. “Enjoy the flight.”
    “You, too,” Hadley says, but the woman’s head has already fallen to one side, and just like that, she begins to snore.
    Beneath their feet, the plane vibrates as the engines rumble to life. One of the flight attendants reminds them over the speaker that there will be no smoking, and that everyone should stay seated until the captain has turned off the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign. Another demonstrates the safe use of flotation devices and air masks, her words like a chant, empty and automatic, as the vast majority of the passengers set about ignoring her, examining their newspapers or magazines, shutting off their cell phones and opening their books.
    Hadley grabs the laminated safety instructions from the seat pocket in front of her and frowns at the cartoon men and women who seem weirdly delighted to be bailing out of a series of cartoon planes. Beside her, Oliver stifles a laugh, and she glances up again.
    “What?”
    “I’ve just never seen anyone actually read one of those things before.”
    “Well,” she says, “then you’re very lucky to be sitting next to me.”
    “Just in general?”
    She grins. “Well, particularly in case of an emergency.”
    “Right,” he says. “I feel incredibly safe. When I’m knocked unconscious by my tray table during some sort of emergency landing, I can’t wait to see all five-foot-nothing of you carry me out of here.”
    Hadley’s face falls. “Don’t even joke about it.”
    “Sorry,” he says, inching closer. He places a hand on her knee, an act so unconscious that he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s done until Hadley glances down in surprise at his palm, warm against her bare leg. He draws back abruptly, looking a bit stunned himself, then shakes his head. “The flight’ll be fine. I didn’t mean it.”
    “It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I’m not usually quite so superstitious.”
    Out the window, a few men in neon yellow vests are circling the enormous plane, and Hadley leans over to watch. The old woman on the aisle coughs in her sleep, and they both turn back around, but she’s resting peacefully again, her eyelids fluttering.
    “Fifty-two years,” Oliver says, letting out a low whistle. “That’s impressive.”
    “I’m not sure I even believe in marriage,” Hadley says, and he looks surprised.
    “Aren’t you on your way to a wedding?”
    “Yeah,” she says with a nod. “But that’s what I mean.”
    He looks at her blankly.
    “It shouldn’t be this big fuss, where you drag everyone halfway across the world to witness your love. If you want to share your life together, fine. But it’s between two people, and that should be enough. Why the big show? Why rub it in everyone’s faces?”
    Oliver runs a hand along his jaw, obviously not quite sure what to think. “It sounds like it’s weddings you don’t believe in,” he says finally. “Not marriage.”
    “I’m not such a big fan of either at the moment.”
    “I don’t know,” he says. “I think they’re kind of nice.”
    “They’re