Maya spun.
“Daddy.”
She ran.
Marcus dropped his laptop bag and caught her.
She hit his chest hard enough to make him step backward.
Her arms locked around him.
He felt tears through his shirt.
Marcus looked over her head at his wife.
Camille stood completely still.
“You’re home early.”
It was the wrong sentence.
Marcus’s voice remained quiet.
“I noticed.”
Jordan and Eli looked frightened now.
Not of Marcus physically.
Of what was about to happen to the structure they lived inside.
Marcus rubbed Maya’s back.
“What happened?”
Camille answered.
“We need to talk privately.”
Maya pulled away.
“No.”
Marcus looked at her.
She pointed at Camille.
“She said I’m staying.”
“I heard.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“Did you change your mind?”
The terror in her face was not about Hawaii.
Marcus understood immediately.
The vacation was merely evidence.
She was asking whether his promise still meant something if another adult overruled it.
He crouched.
“No.”
“You’re coming?”
“You are not being left behind.”
Maya’s lower lip trembled.
“Promise?”
Marcus held her shoulders.
“I already promised.”
He stood.
Camille folded her arms.
“Marcus, can we please do this without an audience?”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“No?”
“Not yet.”
He looked toward Jordan and Eli.
“You boys okay?”
Neither answered.
Eli eventually nodded.
Jordan did not.
Marcus looked at the envelopes.
“What are those?”
Jordan held his.
“Flight stuff.”
“Show me.”
Camille stepped forward.
“Marcus.”
He did not raise his voice.
“Jordan.”
The boy handed him the envelope.
Inside was a printed itinerary.
Jordan Reed.
Atlanta to Kahului.
Same booking Marcus had purchased.
He took Eli’s.
Same.
Marcus looked toward Maya.
“Where’s yours?”
She shrugged helplessly.
“I didn’t get one.”
Marcus looked at Camille.
“Where is Maya’s travel envelope?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Camille’s face hardened.
“We need to talk.”
“Then answer.”
“I planned to tell you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“After your flight?”
“Before.”
“You’re leaving in three hours.”
Camille glanced toward the boys.
Marcus followed her eyes.
Then he saw the burgundy handbag on the side table.
Partly open.
A corner of white paper protruded.
His instincts moved before his thoughts.
He crossed the room.
Camille stepped after him.
“Marcus.”
He reached into the bag.
She caught his wrist.
“Do not go through my purse.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then up.
“Let go.”
“Not in front of the kids.”
“Let go.”
She did.
Marcus pulled out the envelope.
A name showed through the clear travel sleeve.