“Do I look fifty to you?”

“What brought this on?” said Tess, highly amused. They were on their flight back to the States, back to Connecticut. Sitting in first class, naturally.

Danny stared out the window. Watched the clouds rolling by. “You’re avoiding the question, Tess.”

“But even if I said ‘no,’ you’d think I was lying just to make you feel better.” Tess stroked the back of Danny’s hand, which lay on the armrest between them.

“No, I want you to tell me. I want to hear it.”

“No, you don’t look fifty, Danny,” said Tess. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Besides, what does it matter if you look fifty or not? I love you, regardless.”

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better. Well, a little better. But still.

“And why worry about a thing like that now? You just got off of Terry Benedict’s black-list, without a scratch on you, so you should be enjoying the moment.”

“I am. I was just… wondering.”

The stewardess came by. Her nametag read “Julie.” She was blonde, and young, and a little… nervous. She bit her lip, obviously trying to contain her excitement. “I’m… I’m sorry to interrupt you two, really,” she said. She was speaking mainly to Tess. She ignored Danny. “But I was wondering, oh, I know I’m not supposed to ask, because it’s so unprofessional – they told me this in training, but I really had to…”

“Yes?” said Tess. She had a wary tone in her voice, as if she knew what was coming.

“Could I have your autograph, please? I’d totally understand if you don’t want to – I can see you’re busy with your date so–”

“Oh no,” said Tess. She smiled up at the stewardess. “He’s not my date. He’s my father.”

Danny whispered into Tess’ ear, “I. Hate. You.”