Then the man beside her turned his head.
Ryan.
My suitcase slipped from my hand and struck the side of a seat.
A woman sitting nearby frowned at me.
“Careful!”
“I’m sorry.”
I bent to retrieve the bag, but my eyes kept returning to the front of the plane.
Ryan was leaning toward Megan.
She touched his tie, straightened it, and whispered something.
He caught her hand and kissed her fingers.
Then she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.
Not a quick greeting.
Not a kiss between friends.
It was the kind of kiss that made the people around them look away because they felt they were witnessing something private.
Except I wasn’t a stranger accidentally witnessing a private moment.
I was his wife.
I was her best friend.
And neither of them had the slightest idea that I was standing there.
I made it to my seat on shaking legs.
