Third Wheel
I am five chapters in as we land in Kansas City.
I browse anxiously through the crowd for Kennedy. Not seeing her, I find a nearby seat to relax and wait. I pull out my compact to check my hair. I raise the open mirror. There, in the reflection behind me, is Jackson. I stand and turn just in time for a tag-team hug from Kennedy and her husband.
"Sorry we are late," Jackson greets. "I couldn't find a parking spot." He grabs my bag from my hand, kisses my cheek, then motions me toward the exit.