* * *
One day later she was exiting the Charles de Gaulle airport, one duffel bag in tow, following Wes through the maze of travelers. At least a dozen languages could be heard within earshot and the signs were all in French. She’d taken one year of French and now, being in France, she couldn’t remember a single word. Wes reached out and grasped her hand, keeping her close. She clung to him, relieved by the connection. He was the only person she knew here, the only thing familiar, and given that he was still mostly a mystery, that wasn’t comforting.
People bumped into them and she kept muttering apologies. When they reached the outside of the airport, drivers were waiting for guests, little dry-erase boards in their hands with names scrawled on them. Wes bypassed all of them and met a ma
