Then he looked away.

When we landed in Charlotte, he walked behind me through the crowded concourse, still speaking about how different my life must be without the Whitcomb name.

I checked my messages.

Priya had sent a photo of three identical raincoats draped over the back seat of her car.

I knew the girls would run when they saw me.

They always did.

I had arranged for Priya to keep them near the baggage claim, where the open space made it easier for little legs to find their way.