And then Bianca, two gates down, apparently tired of waiting, walked over.
“Trent? They’re boarding. Are we—” She saw my face. She saw his. She stopped.
The three of us stood in the middle of a terminal, and the travelers around us had gone completely still, suitcases paused, a whole gate area pretending to look at their phones while absolutely listening.
“He’s all yours,” I told Bianca, pleasant as anything. “Though you should know the accounts are frozen, the house sale is dead, and the first-class seat is about the last thing he owns. Congratulations on the catch.”
Then I picked up my bag — just mine — and I walked away from both of them, across a silent terminal, and I did not look back, because my mother was waiting in the cell-phone lot, and I had a phone call to a lawyer to finish.
Chapter 5: The Trip I Took Alone
