"A GOOD TAIL
WIND WILL GET
US THERE
ABOUT FIVE
MINUTES
AHEAD OF
SCHEDULE."

 

       I'm only contemplating sin. 
    As the plane leveled out in the air, the guilt-driven thought ran through Tara's mind. It was true. She hadn't done anything wrong --- yet.  Would she?  If the opportunity availed itself, would she fall into Steven's arms?  Or by seriously contemplating sin, had she already crossed the line?
     "We're looking at clear skies from here to San Diego," the pilot announced over the semi-crackling intercom. "A good tail wind will get us there about five minutes ahead of schedule."
     Good tail wind? Ha. Tara considered her husband, Chuck, good tail wind. It was as if he'd been behind her, pushing her all the way out of the marriage. He hadn't wanted counseling or to go away for weekends with her. He hadn't wanted any couple time. He'd refused to admit anything was wrong --- for years. Tara knew better. Why the hell else would she be on a plane to San Diego for no other legitimate reason than to see a man?
     Tara took a breath and leaned her head back into the less than cushy headrest. Airplane seats weren't the most comfortable. She looked around and saw others in single seats also looking around, looking ahead, or reading the "Skymall" catalog.
     "Something to drink?" the waitress asked, her napkin and pen poised to jot down Tara's order.
  
 
      "White wine please."
     "Same for me."
     For the first time, Tara really noticed the man in the window seat. She was on the aisle. He'd been hunched over his laptop when she'd plopped her shoulder bag into the seat and stuffed her carry-on in the overhead bin. Now, he smiled, and she smiled back.
     "Visiting family?" he asked.
     "No." How much should she tell him, she wondered, remembering that she'd slipped off her wedding ring. "A man I'm getting to know."
     "Lucky guy." He tilted his head in a little gesture of indication toward the city they'd left. "I just visited my kids. They live with their mother."
     "In Sacramento?" What a dumb question.
     "Yes."
     "How long have you been divorced?" Tara asked, immediately wishing she could retract the prying words. She didn't need to encourage conversation about marriage or divorce.
     The man ran fingers through pale blond hair, neatly trimmed, edging just slightly over the strip of a white dress shirt collar visible above his suit jacket. "Many years." He smiled, his eyes darting to her hands. "You? Ever been married?"
     She nodded. It was true.
     "Divorced long?" he asked.  
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