She shouldn’t have had to carry grown-up worries.
She smiled and tucked the boarding passes into the front pocket of her backpack, the way she’d seen me do a hundred times. I’d paid extra for two adjoining seats with more legroom, a window seat for Lily and the aisle for Noah and me.
Sometimes I forgot how quickly Lily was growing up. I still saw the little girl who reached for my hand before crossing every parking lot. She was only ten. She shouldn’t have had to carry grown-up worries.
It cost more than I wanted to admit, but I needed the space, and I needed Lily close.
“Group four, boarding now,” the gate agent announced.
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