"Maddox? Where are you?" "He said five minutes," Linna's voice came through on speaker, soft and flustered. "You sure you want me to wait with you?" "I'm fine," Eliza snapped, digging her phone into her jacket like it might hide the heat in her face. "He always says five minutes." "You're not sixteen by accident," Linna said. "You're sixteen because I birthed you. Stay where I can see you." "Okay, okay." Eliza walked another loop around the curb and checked the arrivals screen for the hundredth time. "I'm going to rename him." She tapped Maddox's contact, changed his name to "stinky unreliable," and laughed at herself out loud. "Don't embarrass him," Linna said. "Promise me you won't embarrass him." "I won't post it," Eliza lied, then sent a selfie with the new contact name to Diana with the caption: "He flaked. Send rescue." The reply was immediate: three laughing emojis and a GIF of Diana with a tiny police siren. "Seriously," Eliza told nobody in particular, watching taxis thread the curb. "If he's late, I'm leaving." "You wouldn't," Linna said. "You wouldn't." "Watch me." A guy in a courier jacket bumped into her, muttered sorry, and kept going. A teenager with a camera rig walked backwards, eyes on his shot. A woman in a red suit complained into her phone. A kid handed a flyer to a man who threw it on the steps. The airport hummed