Luca was crossing the terminal less than thirty feet away, in full uniform, pulling his flight bag behind him.

I grabbed Leo’s hand and hauled him into the nearest gift shop, and we hid behind a rack of sweatshirts while I pretended to be fascinated by a spinner of refrigerator magnets.

Leo was trying so hard not to laugh that his whole face had gone bright red.

“This is awesome,” he whispered.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I whispered back, and I was smiling, and he was shaking with silent giggles, and for that one bright minute crouched behind a rack of overpriced sweatshirts we were the happiest conspirators in the world.

I keep that minute too.