Amelia
I teared up, seeing the Chicago skyline out the plane window. It had been a long eight hours from Paris. I missed Paris, but I missed home more.
“Are you crying?” Ezra asks.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “I missed home.”
He wipes a tear from my cheek.
“Didn’t you miss home?” I ask.
“Home is wherever you are, Amelia,” He responds, and I cry more. “Oh dear,” he says and wraps his arm around me.
Minutes later, we stopped at the private hangar where the plane was kept. Pilot Kevin waits as we disembark.
“Thank you for a smooth flight,” I tell him.
“You are most welcome, Missus,” He grins.
“Yes, thanks, Kev,” Ezra shakes his hand.
Willow is waiting with the limo as we go down the stairs. She has my chihuahua in her arms, who starts barking happily when he sees me.
“Chico,” I squeal an
