“Great trip,” he said.

“We should really make Cabo a regular thing.”

“Unforgettable,” I said.

“Truly.” I knelt and zipped Lily’s little jacket and took her hand.

We walked up the jet bridge and into the bright noise of the terminal, Julian a half step ahead, Lily between us, Jim a few paces behind.

And the moment we crossed the threshold into the gate area, I saw them, and I felt the ground steady beneath me for the first time in two days.

I had been holding a line in my own body since the beach, a tension braced against the possibility that something would go wrong, that Julian would sense it, that I had misjudged some piece of it.