Free Bride by Design: Flights of Fancy by Alicia Roberts Page A

eyes of everyone in the queue on me.
    “Could you show me your boarding pass and ID document please, ma’am?” Her voice was clipped, monotone and official.
    I obliged, handing over the documents silently. I watched as she typed a few things into the computer. After what seemed like ages she looked up again and said in her official voice, “I apologize for the delay, ma’am. We’ve now upgraded you to First Class.”
    It took a moment to sink in. “What?” I shook my head, no. “I’m sorry, there’s been some mistake. I never requested an upgrade. And I can’t pay for it.” And I wasn’t going to pay, I added to myself - I was already broke and every cent I had was accounted for. I braced myself for an argument.
    She smiled, and I saw a flicker of curiosity in her professional eyes. “No ma’am. The upgrade is complimentary and everything has been done for you, just relax in First Class.”
    Once more, the words didn’t make sense for a few seconds. And then I remembered Green Eyes talking to the staff, and wondered if he had anything to do with this. “Complimentary - from who?”
    The lady smiled again, and this time her manner was completely official. “I’ve been instructed to let you know that you’ve been upgraded, compliments of the airline.”
    I let the words roll around in my head - “I’ve been instructed to let you know”. What did that mean?
    She handed me my new boarding pass, and escorted me to the front of the queue. I realized I wouldn’t get any answers, and I might as well take a stroke of good fortune when I could, instead of agonizing over the details.
    Green Eyes was sitting in the first row and was busy checking something on his phone when I walked past. A stewardess rushed up and stowed my cabin luggage overhead, and I settled down into the wide, luxurious leather seat.
    So this is First Class, I thought, and I’m finally sitting here instead of just walking past into the Economy section. There were only six seats, three on each side with a wide aisle space in between them. I was sitting in the last row, diagonally behind Green Eyes, which meant that I could see him but he couldn’t see me unless he turned around.
    I love flying, but the past week had been exhausting, running around and visiting various homes in LA for my work. And now it was almost midnight, and I stifled a yawn, waiting for the plane to take off. I rummaged through the brochures in the seat pocket in front of me and found a menu. Although I hate airline food with a vengeance, the meals on this menu sounded like they belonged in an expensive restaurant, not on a domestic flight to New York. I smiled in anticipation.
    My roommate, Katie, had waxed lyrical about the food and service in First Class.  She’d know - her boyfriend Jeff frequently took her to exotic destinations and they always flew first class. Of course, he was a douche, but that was a completely different issue…
    The plane taxied along and finally lifted off with a whoosh. I was thrown back in my seat as I watched the lights of LA twinkle beneath us, forming pretty and intricate patterns, until we finally left them behind.
    Once the plane had steadied, a stewardess brought the meals’ cart along. I watched as she fixed my folding table, and draped a white cloth over it.
    I chose braised beef with mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, a glass of champagne, and a slice of tiramisu for dessert. The meal was as delicious as I’d hoped, served on white china with silver cutlery, and the tiramisu could hold its own against any New York bakery. I grinned as I finished my meal, wondering why they never served us tiramisu in Economy Class, and sipped on a second glass of white wine as the stewardess took away my used plates and folded away the table.
    I might as well enjoy this, I thought, requesting another glass of white wine. The responsible part of my brain scolded me - you’re drinking far too quickly, she said. But I told her to shut up -