Chapter 3

"Final boarding call for passenger Sienna Brooks on Flight ZR877 to Lindrow, Esdarland. Please proceed to Gate C18 immediately."

The announcement echoed faintly through Adrian's phone.

I was sitting next to my suitcase in the departure lounge for our Sundale flight, two boarding passes in my hand. Our flight would leave in forty minutes. Adrian had just called to tell me a minor collision on the ring expressway had left him stuck with an uncooperative driver.

Wind roared across his microphone. Horns blared behind him.

"Go ahead without me," he said. "I'll catch the first flight tomorrow and meet you at the hotel. All right?"

In the past, I would have asked whether he was hurt. I would have offered to cancel everything.

This time, I listened to the airport announcement underneath his staged road noise.

"All right," I said. "Stay safe. I'll wait for you."

I hung up, grabbed my suitcase, and followed the signs to the international C concourse. Gate C18 was boarding Flight ZR877 to Lindrow, Esdarland. I found it ten minutes later.

Adrian was not hurt. He stood next to the priority-security entrance, carefully looping a pink cashmere scarf around Sienna's neck.

She gazed up at him. He tucked one loose end under her collar. Then she threw her arms around him, and he held her as if neither of them could bear to be the first to let go.

I stopped outside the airline lounge nearby, concealed by a partition. Ryan Foster, one of Adrian's friends, handed him a coffee.

"You skipped Claire's graduation trip to see Sienna off," Ryan said. "You do realize you're playing with fire?"

Adrian didn't even glance at the cup. His eyes stayed on Sienna as she walked toward security, turning around every few steps.

"Claire's sensible," he said. "She's nothing like Sienna. Sienna can hardly find the right gate without help. Claire can manage one day on her own. I'll fly to Sundale tomorrow and buy her that limited-edition bag she likes. She'll be fine."

Sensible.

That word had trailed me through our entire relationship like a verdict.

Three years earlier, I had gone to the hospital by myself with a fever so high I needed an IV. Adrian had been getting ready for a competition. He told me to look after myself and phoned the next morning.

Sienna misread a gate number, and he broke a promise, invented a car accident, and clung to her as though she were heading off to war.

I pulled out my phone and photographed them through the glass.

Then I slid the itinerary out of its envelope. I tore off the thick front cover and tucked it into my suitcase. The remaining pages and both tickets went into the trash.

"I hope you make each other happy," I whispered.

As I walked toward the exit, I called my best friend.

"Paige, I need a moving company."

She caught something in my voice and didn't ask for details. "Send me the address. I'm on it."