Sophia
Mark met me at the airport, which he absolutely did not need to do given his schedule, and the sight of him standing near baggage claim with a ridiculous handwritten sign reading WELCOME HOME, ARCHITECT nearly undid me right there in the middle of the terminal.
"You didn't have to do this," I said, laughing, dropping my bag to hug him properly.
"I wanted to. Besides, Peter dared me, and I couldn't let him win that particular argument." He kissed me, unhurried, right there in the crowded terminal, and I felt the last of my Chicago uncertainty fully dissolve, replaced by the simple, solid relief of being exactly where I wanted to be.
We had dinner that weekend with Peter and his wife, a casual thing at Mark's place, the four of us gathered around the kitchen island while something
