The next morning, I arrived early to meet Jamilla Hughes’s flight into Reagan National. I had the usual butterflies before her plane got in. But mostly I couldn’t wait to see Jam. Nana and the kids had insisted on coming to the airport with me. A little show of support—for Jamilla. And for me. For all of us, actually.

The airport was crowded but seemed relatively quiet and peaceful, probably on account of the high ceilings. My family and I stood at an exit from Terminal A, near the security check. I saw Jam, then so did the kids, who started poking me. She was wearing black from head to toe; she looked better than ever, and Jamilla always looked good to me.

“She’s beautiful and so cool,” Jannie said, and lightly touched the back of my hand. “You know that, don’t you, Daddy?”

“She is, isn’t she,” I agreed, looking at Jannie now, rather than at Jamilla. “She’s also smart. Except about men, it would seem.”

“We really like her,” Jannie continued. “Can you tell?”

“I can. I like her too.”

“But do you love her?” Jannie asked in her usual no-nonsense, get-to-the-heart-of-the-matter way. “Do you?”

I didn’t say anything. That part was between Jam and me.

“Well—do you?” Nana joined in.

I didn’t answer Nana either, so she shook her head, rolled her eyes.

“What do the boys think?” I turned to Damon and Little Alex. The Big Boy was clapping his hands and smiling, so I knew where he stood.

“She’s definitely all that,” said Damon, and he grinned. He always got a little goofy around Jamilla.

I moved toward her, and they let me go alone. I snuck a glance back at them, and they were grinning like a Cheshire cat family. I had a lump in my throat. Don’t know why. I felt a little spacey, and my knees were weak. Don’t know why either.

“I can’t believe everybody came,” Jamilla said as she slid into my arms. “That makes me happy. I can’t tell you how much, Alex. Wow. I think I’m going to cry. Even though I’m a tough-as-nails homicide detective. You all right? You aren’t all right. I can tell.”

“Oh, I’m fine now.” I held her tight, then I actually picked Jam up, set her back down.

We were quiet for a moment. “We’re going to fight for Little Alex,” she said.

“Of course,” I told her. Then I said something that I’d never told Jamilla before, though it had been on the tip of my tongue many times. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too,” she said. “More than you can imagine. More than even I can imagine.”

A single tear ran down Jamilla’s cheek. I kissed it away.

Then I saw the photographer taking pictures of us.