“Yeah.”
They stood there—morning light streaming through the window, Fiona’s words glowing on the screen.
“So,” Stella said. “Now what?”
Tyler looked at her. Looked at the phone. Looked at the folder that had been sitting on the counter for a week.
“I have no idea,” he said.
Stella almost laughed. Almost.
She set the phone face-down on the counter and picked up the burned toast from the sink.
“I’m making eggs,” she said. “Since apparently someone in this house needs to know how.”
“I can make eggs.”
“You really can’t.”
She pulled out a pan. Cracked two eggs. Didn’t burn them.
It wasn’t much. But it was something to do while the world rearranged itself around them.
Three days until Fiona landed.
Three days to figure out what came next.
Stella scrambled the eggs and tried not to think about Thursday.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The last three days had been a blur of logistics and anxiety. Margo had claimed Fiona for the guest room before anyone could argue. Meg had offered backup. Even Bernie had texted, which Tyler hadn’t expected.
John Wayne Airport was not designed for awkward reunions.
Tyler stood near baggage claim, hands in his pockets, watching the arrivals board flip from “landed” to “at gate.” Flight 847 from Sydney via Los Angeles. On time. No delays. No last-minute mechanical failures. No act of God to postpone this conversation.
He’d offered to bring Stella. She’d said no.
“I can’t be the first thing she sees,” Stella had said that morning, pacing the kitchen while Tyler failed to make coffee. “She’ll start crying or yelling and I’ll startcrying or yelling and it’ll be a disaster before we even get to the car.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I absolutely know that. We’re the same person. That’s the problem.”
So, Tyler was here alone, watching travelers stream past with their rolling suitcases and their reunions that looked nothing like his was about to look.
A toddler ran shrieking toward a woman in a sundress. “MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY.”
Tyler’s stomach turned.
He checked his phone. Margo had texted.
Spare room is ready. Fresh towels. I made scones.
You didn’t have to do that.
I wanted to. She’s had a long flight. And I remember what it’s like to feel like you’re losing your daughter.
