5
I sat doom-scrolling the latest news on my phone in Phoenix Sky Harbor’s Terminal 4 when a high-pitched squeal pierced the din of conversations and occasional boarding announcements. Becca strode toward me with arms outstretched, wearing a white Hawaiian-style shirt decorated with flamingos and hibiscus flowers. I jumped up and ran into her embrace.
“Oh my gourd! I can’t believe this is happening, hermana.” Becca’s voice was choked with emotion. “Our last weekend with you as a single woman.”
“Don’t worry, nothing’s changing but my legal marital status,” I reminded her. “I promise to continue to hire you as my skip-tracing guru.”
“Oh, is that all I am to you?” she asked with a smirk.
“You mean there’s something more?” I replied with a grin.
Her nonbinary significant other, Easton St
