”I make my way to the restrooms. While there I text Christian our location; perhaps he’ll join us. There are no missed calls from him and no e-mails. This is not like him.”
“It’s Christian. He’s not back from Portland.” “What? What do you mean?” “His helicopter has gone missing.”
“I’m going to say hi to my girl now,” Christian tells his parents. Both nod, smile, and step aside.He moves toward me, gray eyes bright though weary and still bemused. From somewhere deep inside, I find the strength to stagger to my feet and bolt into his open arms. “Christian!” I sob.