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He nods. “There are different checkpoints. Secondary is left at the main desk,” he says quietly. “They keep two, sometimes three, on a slow night.” He says it like it's rehearsed. “You won't need to go near them.”

“How confident are you in these documents? You're already wanted, Torin. They may be flagging people at the desk.”

He shrugs. “I’ve banked on worse.”

I grab a new strip of gum and chew it just as nausea rolls through again. I press the back of my wrist against my mouth and wait for it to pass. Silently, he reaches his large hand out and squeezes mine. The nausea passes.

“You packed everything.”

He shrugs. “Somebody had to.”

“When did you do this?” He gives me another heated look.

“When you were passed out in bed.”

I pull down the visor and straighten my hair just to occupy my hands. The bun is a disaster. I quickly braid it, then reach for the makeup bag.

“Good, that’s better. Nondescript and a bit nerdy. No one will look at me.”

“They’d better not,” he says in a tone that makes my heart skip. “And anyway, you don't. You look adorable and sexy. It's very”—he throws a hand in the air—”sexy librarian.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Deadly.”

“Why do you have to use that word?” I grimace.

He smiles. “I'm not afraid of it.”

I notice the exit to the tunnel. Logan rises ahead of us, all artificial brightness and cars. He pulls the car into short-term parking and kills the engine. Then he sits for a moment, both hands on the wheel, and doesn't move.

“You alright?” he asks.

I nod as he texts someone.

“You're very efficient.”

He smiles and nods. “That's what I'm paid to do.”

Inside, it's fluorescent and rushed, that strange suspension of time that belongs to airports.

I'm shaking through the security checkpoint, my palms wet. When the TSA agent beckons me forward, he takes a look at the ID, then back at me, then down again.

“Stand in front of the facial recognition camera,” he says.

Recognition camera. Oh my fucking god.

A green checkmark bleeps in front of me.

“You're all set,” he says, pushing me through.

Torin hands them his boarding pass. Of course it doesn't take as long for him, but I wonder what the facial recognition software will do. He looks unbothered, as usual.

“Go ahead,” the agent says to me.

“I'm waiting for my husband,” I say.

Torin's eyes meet mine with a glint. Oh, he liked that.