onLeave a Comment on A stranger beside me on a flight asked, “Could you pretend you fell asleep on my shoulder?” I almost said no. I had just left Chicago with my five-year-old daughter, two suitcases, and a marriage that had fallen apart three days earlier. But I agreed. Two hours later, I woke up still leaning against him—and discovered the quiet man beside me was one of the country’s best-known billionaires. Then my phone reconnected, and a message from my ex-husband appeared: I KNOW YOU TOOK FIONA TO NEW YORK. 
His eyes flickered.
“You’re taking her from me.”
“No. I’m asking for a parenting arrangement that reflects what has actually happened.”
“I’m her father.”
“Yes.”
He seemed surprised by my answer.
I continued.
“You are her father. That is exactly why I need you to stop making this about winning.”
For once, David had nothing ready to say.
The final settlement did not destroy him.
I am glad it didn’t.
At one point, I would have found that disappointing.
