Skip to content 
Almost familiar.
Like a tired couple traveling home with their child.
Underneath was a social media caption.
SPOTTED: Adrian Prescott finally off the market?
I covered my mouth.
“Oh no.”
Adrian exhaled slowly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“For asking you to pretend to sleep on me.”
“That was before I actually fell asleep.”
“That distinction probably won’t survive the internet.”
There was something so absurdly calm about the way he said it that a startled laugh escaped me.
It lasted less than a second.
Then I saw the number of shares.
My amusement vanished.
“Thousands of people have seen this?”
“Probably more by now,” Adrian said.
“And Ethan?”
“Likely saw it the same way everyone else did.”
It made sense.
That should have reassured me.
It didn’t.
Because Ethan had not called me.
He had not texted me.
He had called airport staff.
Twice.
And asked whether I was leaving with Adrian Prescott.
“Why wouldn’t he call me?” I murmured.