I don't recognize Riya at first. She has cut her waist-length hair and not just her usual trim. It's half a foot shorter and has actual layers, tousled but purposely so. She wears a plum-colored tank dress with a chunky belt, dangly silver earrings, and aviator glasses. Apparently, Europe looks good on Riya. "Abby!" she squeals, spotting me, and hurries to engulf me in a floral-scented hug. After a year, after this stupid, harsh year, I thought I might be too angry to hug her, to pretend we aren't furious with each other, to act like we never said all those things the last time we talked, but it's Riya and she's hugging me, and I've missed her so much and I'm exhausted from the travel and from this year, so I melt into her. After a moment, she steps back, takes my bag, and slings it over her shoulder. "How was the flight?" Exhausted, I babble random history thoughts at her. "I couldn't stop thinking about how a hundred years ago, people were just starting to consider that a transatlantic flight was possible. Weird, right?" Nodding, Riya tries to follow my line of thought as she leads me toward the airport exit. "I mean, I couldn't stop thinking about Charles Lindbergh and the Spirit of St. Louis and how he was just alone up there in the sky above all that dark water." As we walk into the hot Italian air, Riya takes my hand. "I missed you." "Missed you more." Excerpted from The Wonder of Us by Kim Culbertson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.