Excerpt from Sky Daddy by Kate Folk, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I've only met him a few times," I told her now. "I like whoever you like, Karina." I was impressed by my own diplomacy. Perhaps I'd overheard someone saying this on the bus.

"Well, he likes you," Karina said. "He's always asking, 'What's Lindy up to?'"

"That's nice of him." I was surprised to hear that Anthony held any opinion of me. I took a sip of sake. "I'm not sure I can make it on Sunday," I said carefully.

Karina's eyes narrowed. "Why not? I thought you were coming."

"My landlords are having a garage sale," I lied. "They want me to help out."

"You really don't want to miss it," she said, gnawing an edamame shell. "The Q1 VBB is always the most powerful. It sets the tone for the whole year."

I told Karina I'd try my best, though I'd already decided against going. While it pained me to squander an opportunity to nudge the universe on behalf of my destiny, the risk of exposure was too great. I could not do anything that might compromise my position in society—my job and my housing—which in turn would threaten my prospects of marriage to a plane.

From happy hour, I took BART to SFO, hoping the AirTrain would boost my spirits. I planned to ride the Red Line's loop for an hour or two, my typical routine when I hungered for connection with my loves but couldn't afford to take a flight. The train rounded a bend, approaching Terminal 3. Through the window, I glimpsed many fine planes resting at their gates. Jet bridges nuzzled their temples, their rear ends pointed provocatively toward me. A beefy Boeing 777 pulled back from F4, pivoting on his slender ankles with surprising grace for such a big fellow. Parked at F12, I spotted an old friend who went by the tail number N78823, an Embraer 175 bound presently for Phoenix, according to my flight-tracking app. I'd accompanied N78823 to Salt Lake City a few months ago, and found him to be a playful lover, teasing me with a round of turbulence as we descended into SLC.

At the Terminal 3 stop, the doors opened and a pilot boarded my car. I was shy in his presence, as I always am around pilots, granting them the level of respect others extend to doctors and members of the clergy. This pilot was stout and snub-nosed, his face resembling that of an Airbus A350. He was around fifty, with silver hair protruding from his pilot hat. He wore his uniform of black trousers and a jacket with four stripes on each cuff, indicating he was a captain, a pilot in command. He settled onto the seat across from me. As the doors closed, our eyes met and he smiled in the polite but distant manner of a celebrity. I wouldn't dare to disturb him, though I wished I could ask him many things, such as which model of plane was his favorite, and whether he felt an emotional attachment to the planes, as a farmer loves the horse that assists his labors.

The train rumbled on. As we approached Terminal 2, I was struck with an idea for how I could attend the VBB after all. I could place a pilot on my vision board as a stand-in for my goal of marriage to a plane, claiming I wished to marry a pilot instead. If the universe took my request at face value, and supplied me a pilot husband, I'd make the best of it. I would have access to discounted flights, and a companion to talk about planes with. Though I'd take no pleasure from sex with this pilot, or any person, I would submit to the act to please him, and remain in good standing as his wife. I'd be caressed—infrequently, I hoped—by fingers that had recently touched the most intimate parts of a plane, and been anointed.

Of course, I'd prefer to skip the middleman, launching myself directly into the aluminum embrace of my soulmate: whichever plane would finally recognize my worth and claim me as his bride in orgasmic catastrophe. But I'd recently turned thirty, and perhaps it was time for compromises.

I leaped from my seat and stood impatiently by the doors until they opened to the BART station. Normally, I'd have remained on the AirTrain for another five or six revolutions, but tonight, I couldn't afford to linger. I had a vision board to craft!

Excerpted from Sky Daddy by Kate Folk. Copyright © 2025 by Kate Folk. Excerpted by permission of Random House. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.