in every direction.
One sock had vanished.
She sat in the middle of the hotel bed holding her rabbit and looked at me with complete faith that breakfast would happen because breakfast always happened.
“Chocolate chips?” she asked.
“You ate chocolate chips yesterday.”
“So?”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
I laughed.
It was the first laugh that felt like mine in weeks.
“Fine. But fruit too.”
“Strawberries.”
“If they have them.”
“They have them.”
“You seem very confident.”
She nodded gravely.
“Hotels have strawberries.”
Apparently four-year-olds possessed international hospitality knowledge I did not.
Twenty minutes later, we were downstairs.
I had expected Adrian to be gone.
Instead, he was sitting at a corner table with Daniel, a laptop open between them and a cup of coffee untouched at his elbow.
He looked worse than he had the night before.
Lily spotted him.
“Airplane Adrian!”
Several people turned.
Adrian
