Page 10 of You Know Why

“Babe, I think you’re overreacting a little. She seemed really friendly.”

“Yeah, friendly as a heart attack.” The train stops. “Let’s hurry, please. I’m not feeling well.”

Oh, poor guy. That’s what’s going on. Not only is he an extremely anxious flier, but his stomach is upset, too. Add in the stress of this trip and a stranger? “Are you going to barf? The flight was pretty bumpy.”

He resists my sympathy. “No. Just . . . we have to go.” That tone is back, like I’ve done something wrong. I’m going to have to deal with it once we get on the next plane. Walk him away from the edge. I have my ways, but we’re in public, so I’ll have to get creative. And figure out what set him off in the first place, back in Nashville. I’d blame his mood on bumping into the woman who claimed to be from his past, but he was already tuned up before we got on the flight.

I carry Neve up the escalator, and Trey holds on to Four with a viselike grip.

This is not the most auspicious start to the trip.

And Now . . . A Vanishing Act

Barreling through Hartsfield, we have a tiny bit of luck: The trip from A terminal to E takes only three minutes, and the incoming gate is close to the escalator.

We exit into Atlanta’s international terminal, which is an entirely new world, really, with people from all over. The clothes, the accents, the smells, everything is different. Even rushing, I can feel the shift. I love it. I love the sense of adventure this brings. I miss my old life sometimes—the ability to move at a moment’s notice, to see new cultures, skylines, vistas. I especially love flying itself, being in the sky above everyone, jetting in and out of the clouds. It reminds me that we are very small, and the world is very big, and the commonalities that we share supersede our differences.

The departure gate to Milan Malpensa is halfway down the long corridor. Thankfully, they are not boarding yet, though the preboards are being lined up. A shudder of relief passes through my body.

“Made it! Good job, babies! I think we even have time for a potty break. Who needs to go?” The kids, completely entranced by the new experience they’re having, awed by the chaos of the international terminal, both shake their heads. “Okay. We’ll have plenty of time on the flight. Trey? You need to take a break?”

He isn’t paying attention to me. He’s looking over me, away from the bathrooms, toward the queuing line of people. The line of his shoulders, the cock of his head, are both tight. He looks like he’s about to explode. Something is really wrong.

“Babe? Are you okay?”

He drags his attention to me. There’s something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was fear.

“What did you say?”

“I said, is everything okay? Bathroom? Do you need to go before we board?”

“Brooklyn, seriously, stop nagging me. I’m fine.”

He turns away again. And he bitched at me about the last-minute changes. That’s pretty rich, considering.

I bite my lip and busy myself with checking that our snacks are intact after the run to the gate, answering Four’s rapid-fire questions about the size of the plane—a 777, which is a monster—smoothing Neve’s hair. I was so hoping this was going to be easy, but we’ve been in a rush since Trey sprang this whole trip on me yesterday. Maybe when we get into our seats on the plane, I’ll feel less unsettled. I’m glad I haven’t mentioned the email. He’s really going to take that well. Not.

Trey touches my shoulder. “I . . . changed my mind. I do need to use the restroom.”

“Okay. But take this.” I hand him his passport. “Hurry, though. They’re going to let us board any second. Gosh, we really lucked out.”

“Yes. So lucky.” He pockets his passport and leans in, kisses me on the forehead, then cups my chin in his hand. His eyes, the clear whiskey brown so unique, meet mine for a brief marital moment—an apology for the sharp words earlier. I nod, and he smiles. “Back in a minute, babe. I’ll tell you everything later, okay?”

The aggression is gone. My soft, sweet husband has reappeared, and I relax for the first time in hours, blowing out a nice deep breath. Allow the excitement to come back. Yes, it’s been a rough morning, but we’re going to Italy—three weeks in one of my favorite places, with my beloved family. I have so many things I want to show them. It’s a beautiful country, and I speak a little Italian, so I can get us around without issue. It will be nice to practice. Maybe the kids will learn some, too.

Neve grabs my hand and points out the window, and my attention is pulled away from Trey’s retreating back. When I look up again, he’s gone.

I glance at my watch, and the moment I do, they open the flight for boarding. Shoot. I text Trey.

Hurry babe. They’re boarding now.

The kids surge toward the line, but I hold them back. “We have to wait for Daddy.”

Five minutes pass. Ten. He must have fallen ill after all. People continue to shuffle onto the plane, and I text him again.

Hey, where are you? It’s time to board.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear. Finally, the text appears.