Kate fastened the airplane safety belt and closed her eyes. She silently cursed herself for failing to reserve an aisle seat when she originally booked her ticket. She knew she was screwed the moment she picked up her boarding pass at the check-in counter and saw her seat assignment: 22E.

She'd just stood there in the departures hall for a full minute, staring at her ticket – willing the seat number to change before her eyes. Make it a D. That would be good. 22D. Or even 22F. A window seat, but still... far preferable to the seat assignment printed there in dark, undeniable black.

There was no changing it, of course. The flight was sold out. She was stuck in 22E – the third ring of hell. Otherwise known as a coach-class middle seat, sandwiched between a man in a suit talking on his cell phone and an elderly lady clutching a tote bag full of yarn and crochet hooks. At least the man would have to put his phone away once the plane took off. Kate could already tell the lady on her right was the type who'd want to talk her ear off the entire flight.

Normally she wouldn't have minded a chat, but not today. Not this flight. Not with this hollow feeling in her chest. She hadn't been able to shake it, ever since she stood at the curb of the airport drop-off zone and watched Aidan drive away.

She couldn't stop thinking about it. The way he had looked, sitting next to her in the car this afternoon. He hadn't even been able to meet her eyes. She could see he was fighting just to keep from breaking down. It had surprised her, seeing him like that. From the look on his face, you would have thought he was saying goodbye forever.

"Kate," he had said. "Is there anything I could say right now to make you stay?"

She'd been taken aback by the question. She hadn't been expecting it. She thought they had agreed – she would go back to New York at the end of the two weeks. It didn't mean anything was ending. It was just the beginning. Wasn't it?

"What do you mean?" she had said to him in confusion. "I have to—Aidan, I have to be in court tomorrow. I told you."

"Right."

"I'll see you soon. You're coming through New York on tour in a few weeks."

He hadn't responded.

"I'll see you then, right?"

"Yeah."

His answer came out as little more than a grunt. She'd pulled back out of his arms in order to look up at his face and put one hand on his cheek in silent question.

"Aidan?" she had whispered, watching his adam's apple bob up and down three times before he managed to reply.

"Yeah, we'll be in New York for a night. I can try to see you for a few hours after the show."

"A few hours?"

"Unless you want to come to Massachusetts. We've got another show in Boston the next day."

It hadn't occurred to her that he wouldn't be able to stay longer – at least turn it into a long weekend. She'd already been making plans in her mind. No wonder he looked so upset.

"We'll talk on the phone," she'd said. "I'll call you when I land."

He only nodded in response.

"Aidan, I love you."

"I love you too."

For some reason, the look on his face when he said it – like he was half a second away from either bursting into tears or throwing up – she felt like she had seen it somewhere before. Recently. But not on Aidan's face, she realized now. It was Paul. She thought back to that conversation in the hotel suite after Halley dumped him. Paul had sat on the couch next to her with that same look of hopelessness. "It's a piece of cake getting laid," he'd told her. "But to actually find a girlfriend? A real girlfriend who actually means it when she says she loves you? Way easier back when we were nobodies."

But Aidan knew she really meant it. He knew. Didn't he?

Kate could feel the eyes of her seatmate on the right turning toward her. Not now, she silently prayed. Please, please, please not now.

Best to keep busy, she decided. Try to ignore the fact that her heart had forgotten how to beat at its normal rhythm, at least until she was safely ensconced in the privacy of her own apartment. Work, she told herself firmly. Take out your laptop. Think about work. And maybe, with any luck at all, the woman on the right would take the hint.

Kate powered on her computer and pulled up her notes for tomorrow's opening arguments. She ran her eyes over the words on the screen, trying to force her mind to focus, but it was no use. She couldn't concentrate – and not just because her thoughts kept going back to that last conversation with Aidan. The man on her left had just started up another phone call, and Kate found it utterly impossible to tune out the sound of his voice. He was talking loud enough for people three rows away to follow his side of the conversation.

"...should get the notes back on the script tomorrow. Yeah, that's right." He uttered a laugh at a decibel level that made Kate flinch in her seat. She brought her face even closer to her computer screen, but she still couldn't ignore him. "No, no, feature length. Friends: The Movie. You know the drill. For the ten-year anniversary... The whole cast. Even Jennifer Aniston... I know! Well, you couldn't do a Friends remake without Ross and Rachel—"

Another bark of laughter hit Kate with a jolt. Who was she kidding? With a groan, she slammed her laptop closed again. Right on cue, she heard the lady on her right start in with the chitchat.

"I do hope the flight gets in on time. Did you see the weather forecast in New York?"

"No." Kate shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the seatback in front of her. Maybe monosyllabic responses would get the message across without having to resort to outright rudeness.

"Oh dear. Well, it sounded like thunderstorms. I'm surprised we're even taking off."

Kate sighed. Definitely a chatterbox. Maybe it was for the best. Nothing like some stultifyingly boring conversation to keep her mind off—well, keep her mind off just about everything.

"Now are you from New York or LA, dear?" the woman asked.

Kate turned in her seat and smiled at her. "New York."

"Oh, well then you must be looking forward to going home. I know I am."

"Are you from New York too?"

"Yes. Well, no. I suppose I'm not originally from New York. But then, who is? No, I'm from Minnesota. But my girls are both in New York now, and my grandchildren of course."

"That's nice."

"Would you like to see pictures?"

Kate nodded politely. There was no getting out of it. The woman was already digging through her purse.

"Home is where the heart is," she continued, flipping open a long accordion sleeve of wallet-sized photos. "Isn't that what they say? Well, you know what I mean. You must miss your own family. Were you traveling alone?"

"Yes," Kate replied, keeping her face blank and her eyes on the baby pictures. "Alone."

Alone. She felt the hollow spot in her chest constrict just a little as the word reverberated. Alone. Alone. Alone.

No, she couldn't handle small talk. Not right now. She needed to figure out a way to cut it off.

"Excuse me," Kate said. She handed the pictures back to the lady and reached down into her bag. "I just need to check my phone before we take off."

She'd already switched her phone to airplane mode, but she pulled it out and pretended to look at it again. Not that she could have conducted any kind of phone conversation – not the way the obnoxious cellphone talker to her left was still going at it.

"You remember the series finale? The airport scene? Of course... Such a cliché, right? Can't end a Hollywood romantic comedy without an airport declaration of love!" There was that laugh again. Kate nearly lost her grip on her phone as the sound pummeled her. "Yeah, yeah, that's it. Jennifer Aniston's flying off to somewhere or other, and Ross comes charging through the airport to try to catch her..."

Kate stared down at her phone. There was no chance Aidan would have tried to call her since she switched it off, right? Why would he? He'd driven away. He asked her to stay, and she said no. She had to be in court on Monday. That's what she told him. That's what she tried to tell herself again now. Back in court. Back where she belonged. Too bad she couldn't even remember what the case was about. All she could think about was whether maybe – just maybe – if she switched her phone back on right now, there might be one last message.

So what if there was? What if he had left a voicemail. What if he asked her one more time to stay? Asked her to go live with him in that big, beautiful house. Six bedrooms, five and a half baths, with an accordion sleeve full of beautiful pictures to go with it. So what if he had called? Would the answer be any different?

Maybe. Maybe that's how life worked. Maybe it was all just a coin flip. Heads, you stay and live the life of your dreams with a man who won't take no for an answer. Tails, you go back to your empty apartment and spend your life trying to distract yourself from every bad decision you ever made.

She flicked her phone off of airplane mode. There. She had a new text. Her heart skipped another beat as it flashed onto the screen, but she saw in an instant that it wasn't from him. Marcy. It was only a text from Marcy.

"Still on for drinks tomorrow night? Can't wait for the post mortem!!"

Kate pushed the phone away and shoved it into the seat pocket in front of her. Something about the message set her teeth on edge. Post mortem. Was that what Marcy was calling it? What could be more entertaining than to sit around dissecting another failed relationship. Dead as a doornail, of course. Never stood a chance. Dead on arrival. No point even trying to administer CPR.

It was easy for Marcy to say, wasn't it? Marcy already had her house and her husband and her accordion sleeve full of kids. All Marcy's life was missing now was a little drama and excitement. Nothing she couldn't fix with a quick read of the gossip blogs – or an evening of cocktails with the living, breathing gossip blog that her best friend's life had become—

Kate's thoughts were cut off by the piercing sound of a cellphone ringtone. Seriously? Could this man be any more annoying? Big fancy man in his slick designer suit, and he had his phone programmed full of ringtones. Kate gritted her teeth in irritation as the sound continued. He wasn't even going to pick it up?

"I think your phone is ringing, dear," said the voice on Kate's right.

"It's not my—" Kate started to reply, but she stopped in mid-sentence as the realization struck her. She knew that ringtone. That song. Of course she did. How had she not recognized it right away?

It was Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman.

"Aidan!"

Kate plucked the phone out of the seat pocket and brought it to her ear. It was him. The ringtone he put into her cell. Only for emergencies. It was him after all.

"Aidan!" she said into the phone again, her voice breathless from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

"Hola? Hola?"

"Aidan?"

"Hola! Encontré este teléfono—"

"Who is this?"

"Hola?" said the unfamiliar voice. "Hablas español?"

"No," Kate replied in confusion. "You must have the wrong number. Wrong numero."

"Lady, I find this phone. You know the man? In the nice car?"

"Who is this?"

"I work at a gas station. This man in the nice car – he drop it. I give it back. You know him?"

Kate struggled to understand the words through the thick Spanish accent. Aidan had lost his phone? His bat phone?

"I—I can't help you," she stammered. "I don't know. I'm from out of town."

"Qué?"

"Not from Los Angeles," she said.

"Oh." She heard the disappointment in the man's voice. "Oh, oh, I see. No de Los Angeles."

"That's right. Try one of the other numbers," she said. "Try Annette."

"OK. Gracias."

The phone went dead once again, and Kate looked down at it. She could feel her heart still racing in her chest.

No de Los Angeles. Not from LA.

New York City was her home. A morning in a courtroom. An evening over drinks. That was her life. Even if her heart wasn't in any of it.

Was that why her heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat properly, ever since the moment she watched his car pull away? Maybe that was the problem. Here she was, on this flight, stuck here in seat 22E – but all the while she'd left her heart behind in the passenger seat of his cherry red convertible.

"Home is where the heart is."

Kate closed her eyes. She could hear the words inside her head – the words that the woman on her right had uttered earlier. "Home is where the heart is."

Who talked like that? So trite. She probably had it embroidered on a pillow somewhere. Or maybe painted on one of those lopsided little clay ashtrays that her grandchildren kept bringing home from school.

"Home is where the heart is." Why couldn't she get that sentence out of her head? Such a cliché.

Such a cliché.

Such a cliché.

Such a cliché.

Such a cliché because it was true.

"I gotta go," said the voice on her left. "We're about to take off. Yeah. You remember how it ended though, right? No no, that was the twist. Jennifer Aniston... Right. Ross rushes down there, but it doesn't work. He thinks he lost her. And then at the last second... That's right. You remember? Yeah. At the last possible moment! She got off the plane."