Normal things. A normal morning.
But when I stepped into the small airport’s arrivals hall, I noticed a man standing near the only exit, holding a photograph.
I recognized it immediately.
A copy of the same photograph I carried in my purse.
Thomas and me, standing outside our college library.
A copy of the same photograph I carried in my purse.
I stopped walking.
The man looked up from the picture. He was in his thirties, with dark eyes and a crooked smile that made my stomach tighten.
“Ms. Eleanor?”
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
“Who is your grandfather?”
He glanced at the photograph.
“My grandfather gave it to me.”
“Who is your grandfather?”
“His name is Thomas.”
I gripped the handle of my suitcase.
“Thomas was my fiancé.”
“I’m Daniel. His grandson.”
“I know.”
“Then who are you?”
I shook my head.
“That’s impossible.”
Daniel took a breath.
