He called later than expected. His voice sounded rushed, as if he were walking quickly through a large building. He told me there was a last minute issue with a development deal in Seattle and he had to board a flight immediately. I tried to hide my disappointment, telling him I understood and wished him luck, until I caught a glimpse of something in the reflection behind him on the video call. A bright yellow suitcase rolled past, decorated with a sticker I recognized instantly because I had bought it for Paige as a birthday gift.
My stomach turned cold.
I asked gently, “Kevin, is someone with you right now.”
He answered too quickly. “No, I am just walking to the gate. The connection is bad. I love you, Bri.”
The call ended, or at least he thought it did. The screen stayed active, showing his shoes, then movement, then familiar laughter.
My sister’s laugh. My mother’s laugh. My father’s deep chuckle. And Kevin, laughing with them like they were sharing a private joke at my expense.
I stood frozen in my kitchen as I heard my mother say, “Did she believe the story about Seattle.”
Kevin replied, “Of course she did. She always does.”