Laura
The private jet had barely stopped before Evan started fighting with his seat belt.
“Grandpa!”
“Yes, Grandpa is waiting,” I said, reaching across the aisle before my two-year-old figured out how to free himself. Austin stirred against my chest in the carrier, his little face scrunching like landing in Pennsylvania had personally offended him.
“Don’t start,” I whispered. “Mommy hasn’t slept since you were born.”
His lower lip trembled.
“Your father isn’t here to save you.”
Austin cried.
“Perfect.”
Evan leaned toward him. “Baby sad.”
“The baby is always one inconvenience away from filing a complaint.”
“Complaint,” Evan repeated proudly.
I sighed. Stephen would definitely hear that word later.
The cabin door opened, and warm Pennsylvania air drifted inside. I hadn’t realize
