The Stranger on the Plane
When I stepped onto the plane in Austin, Texas, I had only two suitcases, a collapsed stroller, my nine-month-old daughter Lily, and the broken remains of a life that no longer felt like mine.
At thirty-one, I had never pictured myself leaving the city where I grew up under circumstances like these.
My marriage had ended.
My ex-husband, Ryan Collins, had replaced the locks on our apartment, blocked access to our shared bank account, and begun sharing cheerful pictures with another woman before the divorce documents had even stopped lying on my kitchen table.
Chicago had never been my dream destination.
It was merely the last place where someone was willing to offer me a roof over my head.
