written in big black letters was hard to miss as she emerged from customs into the crowds of JFK’s international terminal. She assumed that Drew had arranged for a car to pick her up, but the driver who approached her looked familiar. When he opened the town car’s door, she wasn’t totally surprised to find Charles in the back seat. He raised both hands in surrender before she could say anything, “Drew didn’t ask me to meet your flight. In fact, he made it clear that you want to do this on your own, but Liz said she’d cut off my balls if I didn’t make sure you were all right. She’d be here too, but couldn’t get out of filming today.” “Are you done?” she asked, turning to look at him. Charles Morrison was always cool and confident, so his uncharacteristic nervous chatter didn’t help her anxiety. “Yes,” he answered. Unsure of what she wanted from him, Charles focused on how his driver expertly squeezed their car between two taxis before steering it toward the airport’s exit.
