Sabra sat back and marveled at the meal the steward offered her. Getting to the airport had been a frantic fight against Friday-night traffic, and she’d insisted on going home first, which put them further behind. There was just something too submissive about leaving town with nothing but the clothes on her back. Hell, there were a lot of things about her relationship with Tarak that were too submissive. He lived in a different world than she did. But he wasn’t any happier. That thought stuck in her head. Her dad had been fond of telling her money didn’t solve all a man’s troubles. He still had to look himself in the eye every morning. It couldn’t ensure health, and it couldn’t buy love. At least not hers. Sure about that? She didn’t care for the doubt surfacing inside her. The roomy first-class seat made it hard to ignore, though.
