WESTON

I check my watch for the fifth time, reaching into my pocket for my phone to check it as well. No missed texts or calls. Our flight leaves in less than thirty minutes.

Fuck! I shouldn’t have said what I said to her. I shouldn’t have kissed her, but I couldn’t deny myself any longer. I’m not surprised she isn’t coming; I probably scared her.

“Something bothering you, son?” My father doesn’t look up from his newspaper.

“No,” I ...