Tyler returned to his usual announcements, discussing turbulence and our estimated arrival time as though he hadn’t just turned our lives upside down.
I sat silently, holding Mason’s hand.
Then, about twenty minutes before landing, my phone vibrated.
A message from Tyler.
Tyler: I need you to do me a favor when we land.
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
Tyler: Don’t make a scene. There’s someone important on this flight, and I need this to go smoothly.
I read it twice.
He still had no idea we were there.
Or perhaps he did, and he simply didn’t care.
I typed a single question.
Me: Who is Vanessa to you?
The reply came almost immediately.
Tyler: This isn’t the time. Please trust me.
I nearly laughed.
Trust him.
I had trusted him when he said he was working late. I had trusted him when he explained the unexplained hotel charges on our joint credit card. I had trusted him when he claimed that Vanessa was nothing more than an old colleague.
