"Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has NOT turned off the Fasten Seatbelt sign. We ask that you remain in your seats for the duration of the flight. We are expecting to encounter severe turbulence..."

Aidan groaned and clenched his jaw. He forced the contents of his stomach back down as the plane skipped and lurched through the sky.

He hated flying. Goddamn, he hated flying. He hated flying on a good day, but this? This had to be the worst flight he'd ever experienced.

He had hoped to look around for Kate before the flight took off. He'd had visions of some grand, romantic reunion, going down on one knee right there in front of an airplane full of onlookers. Someone was bound to put it up on Instagram. How many "likes" would that video get?

But there hadn't been time for any of it. The flight attendants were already in the middle of the safety demonstration by the time he jogged down the jetway and onto the plane. He'd been ushered directly to his seat without so much as a "Welcome aboard!"

That's what he got for flying coach. How many years had it been since he sat back here in the cheap seats? He rarely even flew first class nowadays – mostly chartered private jets.

He'd felt a tinge of worry when the ticket agent first handed him the coach-class boarding pass. What was he letting himself in for, exactly? No way he wouldn't be recognized. He had a pair of sunglasses with him, but they didn't do much to conceal his identity. Would he be mobbed by fans? Five hours of pictures and autographs, wedged into a seat the size of a sardine can? Probably the last public appearance of his career, and he was going to spend it conducting the world's most uncomfortable meet-and-greet.

He hadn't counted on the turbulence though. It was driving him crazy, not being able to get up and search the plane for Kate, but at least it was keeping his fellow passengers in their seats as well. Everyone was way too focused on not puking to worry about pestering him.

He felt the seat bottom drop away beneath him in a moment of pure freefall before the plane seemed to bounce and tilt upward again. Worst flight ever. Kate better be happy to see him at the end of this. Better be fucking ecstatic. He kept one hand poised to grab the barf bag out of the seat pocket in front of him.

"Oh dear," said the voice to his right. "You don't look so good."

Aidan sucked in his breath slowly and held it deep in his lungs, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. He turned to look at the woman sitting beside him. A little old lady – must be pushing 80 from the looks of her – working away at some crochet project. She must have been the only person onboard who wasn't motion sick right now.

"Maybe this would help, dear?" She pulled a pack of spearmint chewing gum out of her bag and offered him a stick.

"Thanks," he muttered, grateful for anything to get the taste of bile out of his mouth.

She put down her ball of yarn and turned in her seat to face him, taking his acceptance of the gum as an invitation to chat. "I think the woman in that seat before you had the right idea, getting off the plane when she did."

"What happened?" Aidan replied. "Did she get sick or something?"

"Oh no. It was the strangest thing. We were just about to take off, and all of a sudden she just stood up and started taking down her suitcase out of the overhead bin. And then she turned to me out of nowhere and said 'Thank you,' and gave me a kiss on the cheek! Isn't that odd?"

Aidan crinkled his forehead. "You didn't know her?"

"Never met her before in my life! So I just said 'You're welcome, dear, but thank you for what?'" The woman lowered her voice in a confidential tone as she continued. "She was a little funny, that girl. And I don't mean funny ha-ha. She just gave me the strangest smile and said, 'Home is where the heart is.' That's all she said. Can you imagine?"

"What a weirdo," Aidan replied.

The woman nodded. "It's scary, isn't it? You never know who you might be sitting next to on these flights."

Aidan felt one corner of his mouth pull up into a half-smile. Never know who you might be sitting next to... She clearly had no idea who he was. Not at her age. Probably hadn't followed pop music since the Beatles. It was a stroke of luck, getting seated next to her. That only left the man in the window seat to worry about, but he didn't look like he was in a position to recognize anybody – not the way he was hunched over with his forehead resting on the airplane tray. He let out a little moan each time the plane gave another jolt.

"Now what about you?" the woman asked. "Are you from LA or New York?"

It felt a little surreal, this conversation. Just a couple strangers, making chitchat on a plane. Just a couple regular people. How long had it been since he'd felt like a regular person? The better question was, how long before every conversation would be like this one? How long before he faded into complete obscurity once he had backed out of the music scene for good?

"Hollywood," he said in response to her question. "Well sort of."

"No one's really from Hollywood, are they?"

"No," he agreed. "Actually, I was born and raised in New York. I think I'm moving back now."

"Oh are you? Let me guess. Is it for a girl?"

He grinned at her. "What gave it away?"

"Isn't it always?" She smiled back at him and patted his arm. "That's nice dear. Life is too short to spend it away from the people you love."

"I agree."

"Is she meeting you at the airport, this girl of yours?"

"Sort of." He paused for a moment, hesitating. "Not exactly. It's kind of a surprise."

"Hmmm," she nodded, scanning his face with her eyes. "That sounds very romantic, but can I just give you one tiny piece of advice?"

"Shoot."

"You might want to shave first," she said, smiling at him maternally. "You're really very nice looking, but it looks like it's been a little while, hasn't it?"

"Really?" He lifted one hand and rubbed it over his face, feeling two day's worth of stubble – just the way his stylist recommended when he shot the screen test for his big-screen debut. "This is kind of my look these days," he said.

"Oh dear, no," she replied. She pursed her lips in disapproval. "No woman is going to want to look at you, all scruffy like that."

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to begin our descent. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and return your seatbacks and trays to their upright position..."

Aidan glanced at the man to his left, still lying facedown on top of his tray table. He wasn't going to be upright anytime soon.

A sudden flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed instantaneously by a deafening boom. The overhead lights all flickered off. A baby began to wail somewhere behind him.

"Shit!" Aidan reached down and tightened his seatbelt until it cut into his hips. Then he moved both hands to grip the armrests with vice-like strength.

"There, you see," said the old lady beside him. "I knew there were thunderstorms."

Aidan didn't respond. His full attention was now focused on forcing his lungs to continue breathing. Another bolt of lightning briefly illuminated his surroundings, and the thought flashed through his mind that he might have been wrong. Maybe it wasn't meant to be after all. Maybe this was the end. Not just the end of his career. The end. The real end.

"Oh my God, we're gonna die," he heard the man on his left moan into the tray table.

Aidan squeezed his eyes closed and made a silent vow. If he somehow managed to get off of this flight alive, he was never setting foot on another airplane again. Never. Ever. He'd just have to spend the rest of his life living happily ever after in New York.

"OK," he whispered to himself. "Meant to be. Happily ever after."

He forced himself to conjure up an image Kate's face. She was somewhere on this plane. In a few more minutes they'd be safely on the ground and he'd go find her. Only a matter of minutes, and he'd be holding her in his arms. It would be worth it – this flight from hell. It would be worth it just to see the look on her face. He tried to picture her reaction. Surprised, of course. Probably shocked. She'd be happy though. He was pretty sure. It would be worth it when he saw her smile.

The plane swayed sickeningly, and then he felt himself thrown forward as it gave one more tremendous jolt. What was that? Did they crash? His eyes were still sealed shut, but he heard the familiar sound of whistles and applause surrounding him.

Whistles and applause? Was he dead? Was this heaven? A darkened stage? The final curtain call? All of eternity in front of an adoring crowd, summoning him back for one last endless encore?

"Ladies and gentlemen, United Airlines is happy to welcome you to New York John F. Kennedy airport. The local time is..."

Aidan cracked one eye open. A flight attendant spoke into the intercom a few rows in front of his seat. The lady to his right was clapping along politely with the rest of the passengers, applauding the captain for getting them safely on the ground.

Aidan allowed ten seconds for his heart to resume beating. Then he sprang into action.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood, ramming his head into the low ceiling of the fuselage, but he ignored the burst of pain. Find Kate. That was his only thought. He had to find Kate.

He began scanning the rows of seats around him, too intent on searching for a familiar face to notice the flight attendant coming toward him down the aisle.

"Sir, I need you to stay in your seat until the captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign."

"I know, I know," he said, waving her away like an annoying fly. "I'm just looking for someone."

"Sir, I'm afraid I must insist—"

Shit. Another one was coming over now. He couldn't see anything anyway. Everyone else was still seated. He slumped back down in his chair and turned on his phone instead.

Five missed calls. He skimmed his eyes down the list. Annette. Annette. Annette. Annette. Kate.

She said she'd call him when she landed. Did she have her phone back on? He didn't bother playing the voicemail she had left – just tapped the screen to call her back.

One ring. Two rings....

Come on, Kate. Pick up the phone.

Three rings. Four rings...

"Hello?"

"Kate!"

He popped back up to his feet at the sound of her voice, slamming his head into the ceiling yet again. "Ow! Godammit!"

"Aidan? Are you OK?"

Get it together. "Kate!" he said. "Stand up!"

"What? Aidan, where are you? I've been trying—"

"I'm here!"

"Where?"

"Here!"

The flight attendant was approaching him again. He slouched back down into a half-seated position and clutched the phone to his ear.

"What?" he heard her voice say. "Where?"

"OK, no," he said. "We are not doing this again."

"Aidan?"

"Just tell me your seat number."

"My seat number? On the flight?"

"Just tell me!" he shouted into his phone.

"22E!" she shouted back.

He looked up. His eyes searched hungrily for the row numbers lining each side of the aisle. "OK, 22—wait, what?"

"Why do you need to know my seat number?"

"Kate." He closed his eyes and slumped backward, momentarily struck silent with disbelief as comprehension dawned.

"Aidan?" her voice buzzed in his ear. "Aidan what's going on?"

"Kate," he whispered.

"Where are you? I've been waiting here for hours!"

"Kate," he said a little louder.

"What?"

He sighed and opened his eyes. "Home is where the heart is?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Kate?" he said. "Are you there?"

"How do you know about—"

"From our good friend in 22D."

"But how—"

"Don't tell me," he interrupted again, his mouth quirking upward in a slow smile. "Let me guess. You're at the Beverly Hilton?"

"What?" she responded. He could just picture the look bafflement that must be on her face right now. "Aidan? Are you on the plane?"

"Don't move," he said. "Stay there."

"OK but—"

The plane ground to a stop at last. The passengers around him all sprang to life, clicking open seatbelt buckles and gathering bags. Aidan shouldered his way into the aisle with the phone still pressed to his ear.

"Kate, I gotta go. But listen. Do not leave that hotel room under any circumstances. Do you understand me?"

"Where are you going?"

"Where am I—" he broke off, letting out a laugh at the words he was about to speak. So much for vows. So much for slow-motion reunions. So much for happily ever after. "Where do you think I'm going? I'm getting on the next flight back to LA!"

He clicked the phone back off and stuffed it into his pocket. He should have been upset. After all that, now he had to turn around and fly straight back up into a thunderstorm. He should be panicking, really. But somehow, just then, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He couldn't stop picturing her in his mind's eye, perched on a plush hotel-room sofa with a plate full of room-service pizza in her lap.

She stayed. She didn't go. She said, "Home is where the heart is." And then she-stayed-she-stayed-she-stayed.

The row of people in front of him began to move. He was making his way slowly up the aisle when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Must have been recognized, he thought. He craned his head around and opened his mouth to speak the words that came automatically. "No time for pictures."

His eyes landed on the woman from 22D with her crochet bag tucked neatly under her arm. "Well, it was lovely to meet you dear," she said. "Good luck with your young lady."

On an impulse, he stopped and threw his arms around her, planting a firm kiss on the crepey skin of her cheek. "Thank you!"

She brought her hand to her face in surprise as he released her. "What on earth was that for?" she said, but he had already turned away.

"Home is where the heart is!" he called back over his shoulder.

The old lady watched him hustle down the aisle and disappear through the airplane doors before she could gather herself to reply. "Hollywood people," she muttered under her breath. "Completely batshit crazy. Every single one."