The Reckless Collision

Sam.

~~~

The pilot's announcement broke our moment, letting us know we were beginning our descent. The cabin buzzed with activity as passengers stirred, gathering their belongings. I glanced out the window, my breath catching as the sprawling cityscape of New York came into view, glittering like a sea of jewels beneath the night sky.

"We're really doing this," I whispered, more to myself than to Ray.

His hand tightened around mine. "Yes, we are. And it's going to be amazing."

The wheels touched down with a gentle thud, and a ripple of applause spread through the cabin. I smiled, feeling a tentative sense of peace settle over me. As the plane taxied to the gate, I looked at Raymond, who returned my gaze with an unyielding confidence that made my chest tighten in the best way possible.

The mid-November air was a stark contrast to LA, the familiar scent of New York—an odd mix of asphalt, exhaust, and something indefinably electric—hit me as we stepped onto the jet bridge.

Ray stretched beside me, groaning softly. "There's nothing like New York, is there?"

I breathed deeply, letting the cold air fill my lungs. "No," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "It feels like coming home."

As we wove through the bustling terminal, we spotted a man holding a sign with "Morris" printed in neat block letters. He was an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile.

"Mr. Lawrence, Ms. Morris," he greeted warmly, doffing his chauffeur's cap. "Welcome back to New York. I'm Charles, and I'll be your driver today."

"Thank you, Charles," Ray said warmly as he shook the chauffeur's hand.

Charles led us to a sleek black sedan waiting at the curb, its polished surface gleaming under the glow of the terminal lights. As he loaded our suitcases into the trunk with practiced efficiency, I slid into the backseat, sinking into the smooth leather. The scent of clean upholstery mingled with a faint hint of cologne, a welcome break after the stale air of the plane.

I grabbed a water bottle from the mini bar in front of me, twisting off the cap. The pain in my shoulder was dull but persistent, so I popped a pill into my mouth and chased it down with a long sip of water.

Charles settled into the driver's seat and glanced at us in the rearview mirror as we pulled away from the curb. "How was your flight?"

Ray draped an arm around my waist, his presence solid and grounding. "It was good, thanks. A bit long, but we're just happy to be here."

I nodded, watching the city come alive outside my window. New York's chaotic rhythm was already coursing through my veins. "I can't wait to see my grandmother."

Charles's smile appeared briefly in the mirror, warm and knowing. "New Rochelle isn't far. You'll be there before you know it."

The city lights danced across the window as we drove through Manhattan, illuminating everything from towering skyscrapers to bustling street vendors. Charles kept up a lively commentary, sharing snippets of history and pointing out landmarks. His voice was soothing, almost melodic, as he spoke.

Before we knew it, "We're almost there," Charles announced, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

My heart thudded in my chest as we turned onto a familiar street. Memories flooded back at the sight of the sprawling garden surrounding my grandmother's house. It looked exactly as I remembered—majestic yet welcoming, with ivy climbing the stone walls and still vibrant bushes swaying in the breeze. The car came to a stop, and I couldn't contain my excitement.