The trip home always managed to feel shorter than the trip away, didn't it? It didn't bother me, though. I was perfectly happy to get off of the plane. Our town car was at the airport still and was brought right up to the jet for us to exit. It was one of those little things that made me feel a little larger than life. Who else had private cars waiting for them on the tarmac? Roman drove us through the city and I kept my hand on his knee the entire time. The soft melodies of an indie song played over the radio. It was turning out to be a rather peaceful and gradual return, and I was thankful for that. It made it easier not to dote over memories of the Bahamas.
When we pulled up to the house, I got out and stretched, letting out a deep sigh as I did. "Let's get the bags later," Roman suggested.
"You read my mind," I smiled weakly.
We walked toward the door and before I could grasp the knob, Roman took gentle hold of my arm.
