Sam spotted him the second she stepped off the small stage, award handed off to the charity's director, applause continuing behind her. Gio stood near the back wall, out of the sightline of anyone with a camera, hands in his pockets, patience costing him more effort than he let show. She didn't let her face do anything about it. Eight years of practice made that easier than it should have been.
She finished the rest of the obligation first. A photo with the director. A word with the woman from the foundation who'd flown in for the event. A reporter who wanted thirty seconds she gave twenty of, polished and complete, nothing left over for anyone to build a headline out of. Only then did she cross the room toward him, and only then did she let her expression tell him what she actually thought about him standing there.
"You're not usually the one who shows up," she said, low enough that it stayed between them.
"I know."
