Chapter 8The differences between Chicago and Palm Springs became immediately—and painfully—apparent as soon as Roberto stepped out into the open-air Sonny Bono terminal.
Ahead of him, gorgeous, craggy, and sand-colored mountains rose, crowned at the top with snow. Even from this distance, the pines stood, stalwart, up there, distant cousins to the palm trees on the desert floor. Slender palms swayed in the arid breeze. The airport was small and filled with revelers, released for their time in the sun.
He didn’t feel like one of them.
But it wasn’t just the view that caused him to suck in a breath. It was the air and the sun—especially the sun. A glorious orange and gold orb radiating the loveliest warmth Roberto could imagine. He threw off his heavy lined leather jacket and basked in th
