⸻
Once we landed, Weston came out of the cockpit to greet the deplaning passengers the way he always did, shaking a few hands, chatting easily with the crew, completely unaware that his own wife and son were standing in the jet bridge, watching him hug a young woman he’d apparently been building a relationship with for four entire months.
⸻
He spotted us the moment he turned around.
⸻
His face went through every stage mine had gone through less than two hours earlier — confusion, recognition, then something considerably closer to panic.
⸻
“Odette,” he said. “Milo. What are you doing here?”
⸻
“We surprised you,” I said flatly. “Or we tried to. It seems like you had your own surprise planned.”
⸻
Ivy, standing beside him, looked between us with growing, mortified understanding.
⸻
“You didn’t tell them,” she said quietly to Weston. “About me.”
⸻
“I was going to,” Weston said. “Tonight, actually, once I got home. I didn’t know either of you were on this flight.”
