“Oh, looks like you’ve been upgraded again, sir,” she said brightly.
Eric blinked. “Wait, what?”
The agent handed him the pass—tucked neatly inside a thick paper sleeve. I saw the second his eyes hit the writing on the front, his face paled.
“What is it?” I asked, shifting Ava on my shoulder.
He held it out with a weird, twitchy smile.
Scrawled across the ticket sleeve in bold black ink were the words:
“Business class again. Enjoy. But this one’s one-way. You’ll explain it to your wife.”
I snatched the ticket, read it, and immediately recognized the handwriting.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Your dad did not…”
“He did,” Eric muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “He said I could ‘relax in luxury’… all the way to the hotel I’m checking into alone for a few days to ‘think about priorities.'”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Loudly. Possibly maniacally.
“Guess karma does recline fully now,” I said, stepping past him with both kids.
Eric followed behind sheepishly, dragging his roller bag.
At the gate, just before boarding, he leaned toward me and said quietly, “So… any chance I can earn my way back to economy?”
