Miss Match by Lindzee Armstrong, Lydia Winters

wedding?” the woman asked.
    “September fifth.” This time Brooke smiled for real.
    “Young people have such long engagements these days.” The woman leaned forward conspiratorially. “My husband and I were engaged on Thanksgiving and married on New Year’s Day. We thought it was very romantic. A new beginning and all that.”
    “That’s so sweet. Is that who you’re waiting for—your husband?”
    “No, my dear Harold passed on three years ago, may he rest in peace.” The woman quickly crossed herself. “We were never apart for more than a day in all our fifty-one years together.”
    Tears pricked Brooke’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
    “I know I’ll see him again. Today I’m waiting for my grandchildren.” The woman’s voice brimmed with joy. “My daughter and her family are moving home after fifteen years away. The last three years have been lonely, and I’m glad to have family close again. Oh, here come some people now.” Weary travelers wandered into baggage claim. “I wish you and your fiancé a lifetime of happiness, dear.”
    “Thank you. And I’m glad your family is moving home.”
    The woman nodded, her attention focused on the crowd. Brooke scanned the passengers for Antonio.
    “Grandma!” A girl with bouncing brown curls broke away from the crowd and ran into the woman’s arms. A few moments later, she was swarmed by two more children and two adults. They laughed and hugged each other.
    Brooke smiled. She was glad she’d talked to her. She and Antonio could be like that woman and her husband with a little work. Brooke and Antonio had their fair share of problems, but they loved each other, and she was committed to their relationship.
    Even if it means giving up Luke? a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. She shook it aside. Antonio wasn’t a fan of Luke’s, true. But he knew how much their friendship meant to her, and would never ask her to give that up completely.
    She searched the crowd, looking for Antonio’s shaggy locks and flirtatious smile. He was only five foot ten, and easily hidden in a crowd by all the taller men. Businessmen in black suits with stern expressions entered baggage claim. A mother alone with three young children. A group of what looked like high school students with a few tired looking chaperones.
    And then she saw him. He had his trademark five o’clock shadow, a dark gray winter scarf nearly obscuring it. His curls were even more unruly than usual, and he reached up with one of his strong hands to brush them out of his eyes. She could just make out flecks of paint on the back of his hand.
    Her heartbeat quickened, and she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Antonio!” She raised on tiptoes and waved.
    He looked up and saw her. His mouth turned up, and he hitched his carry-on bag higher on his shoulder and jogged over to her, a portfolio case in his other hand. “ Mia dolcezza, ” he exclaimed, dropping the portfolio case and bag and catching her in his arms. His lips quickly found hers, and she let her hands weave into his hair as he kissed her breathless. Several long moments later, he pulled back, their foreheads still touching. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
    Brooke kissed him again. “I’m glad you’re home. I love you.”
    “I love you too.” He released her, reaching down to pick up his bag and portfolio. “Let me grab my bag from the carousel.”
    “Here, let me.” Brooke took his portfolio and carry-on, and waited while he picked up his bag.
    “Let’s go home,” Antonio said. “I’m exhausted.”
    Brooke made a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. “Long flight, or long trip?”
    “Both.”
    Brooke breathed easier now. He hadn’t brought up the gala. All I have to do is keep him away from any form of media for the next week or so, and we’ll be golden. She mentally kicked herself. Yeah, right.
    “How did the last few art deals go?” Brooke asked as they loaded his luggage into