Damian gave my cheek an indulgent pinch, then reached for the latch. The clasp snapped open with a sharp click, and he threw back the lid.
Under his stunned gaze, a woman slowly rose from inside the crate. The instant her eyes landed on Damian, she burst into tears and threw herself into his arms.
"Honey! You scared me half to death! Didn't you tell me to bring our son back for the celebration?"
"We'd barely gotten off the plane before someone shoved us into a crate—you're awful! You can't scare people like that!"
Her tears dissolved into giggles as she wrapped her arms around Damian's neck.
Three seconds of dead silence.
Then the room erupted.
"What's going on? Why is this woman calling Damian her husband?"
"She has a son? I thought Damian couldn't have children!"
The color drained from Damian's face. He spun around and wrenched open the second crate. Inside, his son lay with his eyes shut tight, fast asleep.
Damian lunged forward and scooped the boy into his arms, shouting his name.
But the little one just slumped against his shoulder, limp and motionless.
Panic flooded Damian's eyes. He patted the child's back once, twice, three times—then his gaze snapped to me.