The luggage tag on her suitcase read HORIZON SUITE.
His arm rested comfortably around her waist.
His left hand was bare.
I noticed that, in the same second I noticed everything else, the way you notice the one detail that tells you the whole story is already over.
They were laughing together like a couple returning from a vacation.
Then, right before my eyes, Dillon leaned down and kissed her.
It was a slow, familiar kiss, the kind you give someone when you have done it many times.
I stood motionless, clutching my daughters while the noise of the terminal faded to a hum.
Eloise gurgled against my collarbone.
Then Dillon looked in my direction.
Our eyes met.
For one half-second I saw panic.
Then it was gone, replaced by something worse, a kind of lazy, practiced ease.
Instead of looking ashamed, he casually walked over with the woman still beside him.
