CHAPTER 5
EMMA
When I got my luggage and headed out of the airport, it was precisely seven o'clock. There were hundreds of people around, chattering and carrying on with their business, but I could hear Reagan’s voice above it all.
“Emma!”
The second I saw her weaving in and out of the crowd, it was as if something clicked in me. Reagan was twenty-five, two years younger than me, and we looked nothing alike. I was a couple of inches taller, and I had our mother’s dark hair and green eyes. On the other hand, Reagan inherited our father's blond tresses and blue eyes. I’d tried not to miss her so much over the years, but I did. She was my best friend. Eyes burning, I gripped my suitcase and ran to her. She flung her arms out wide, and I hugged her so hard she gasped.
“I see you missed me
