“We are going to miss the flight.”
“Then miss it.”
Mason made a small sound, not a word. Lauren turned toward him with a relief that was almost ugly, as if the boy’s distress were a hallway she could walk down to get out of the other room. She crouched. The hem of the camel coat touched the damp curb. “Hey. You don’t have to be scared of the plane. Remember what we said about the air being the same air. Remember—”
“Don’t,” Derek said.
She looked up. From that angle the ponytail and the careful coat and the defensive set of her jaw made her look like someone he had met once and not married. He hated the thought and did not take it back inside himself.
“Don’t use him to get through the next minute,” he said. “Stand up. Answer me.”
“Not on the curb. I said that.”