“Yep. Gross.”
“What’s Amie’s flight number?” Cam pulls his phone from his pocket.
“Uhh…” I rack my brain. We have a shared calendar that Amie has put her flights on for years, so we all know where she is and when to expect her home. It’s even more valuable to us now that she has Maisy, with Katy, Paloma, and me taking turns to look after our goddaughter. “B-I-A six-two-six.”
Cam’s thumbs work furiously at the screen. Less than a minute later, his phone makes a quiet noise with an incoming message.
“Air traffic slots,” he says. “Fuck’s sake.”
Whatever that means. Something bad, I assume.
“She’s okay though?”
“Eh.” He makes a sound of contemplation before continuing. “They wanna restrict the flow of traffic in the airspace. More separation between aircraft.”
“Because of the weather?”
“Because of the weather,” he confirms. “So she’s sitting in a queue. She can’t leave yet, because she can’t enter the airspace until there’s enough space in it, and there’s nowhere else for her to sit and wait.”
“So she’s safe, right?”
Cam’s lips quirk, but he nods. “Totally safe.”
Whew.
“Okay.” It’s a whisper, but it’s resolute. I feel better knowing the reason for Amie’s delay, even if it is because of bad weather, and even if all of those horror stories and the memory of the Jurassic crash last year—the one that killed some of Cam’s friends, and the hours we spent not knowing whether he was involved or not—are swirling through my mind right now.
“Fuck, I hate your job.”
Cam chuckles at that. “Noted,” he says. “I won’t offer to take you up in a little two-seater.”
I shudder at the thought. My stomach revolts again, even though I’m still on solid ground. The thought of being on any kind of plane makes my skin itch. And yet, I fly regularly, for work.
“Do you want me to stay for Maisy, so you can get some sleep?”
“Nah,” he says. “She’s asleep anyway. I’ll make sure Amie texts you when she gets home.”
I smile weakly and begin to gather my belongings. I push papers into a cardboard folder and tuck pens into a floral case, then drop everything into my tote bag before slipping it over my shoulder.
“Thanks, Cam. Give Maisy a kiss for me when she wakes up.”
“Will do,” he says with a tired smile. “Go home. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”
Chapter four
Everett
“You remember what Grandaddyused to say, right?”
“He used to say a lot of things, honey,” Mom says with a smile. She reaches to ruffle my hair and I swat at her hand playfully.
“If you can’t fool ‘em with facts, boy, baffle ‘em with bullshit.”
“Ah, yes,” Mom laughs. “My Grandaddy used to say that, too. Probably where yours got it from.”
“Probably,” I hum in agreement. “I was just thinking about it this morning. About him.”
“You miss him,” Mom says. She sighs, coming to sit on the bench beside me and pulling me into a sideways hug. I nod. My throat feels tight and heavy just thinking about it—about him. I daren’t speak.
