“Bette.” I say her name as I turn to face her. I look her over and I know that there’s been a lot of changes in her life. She’s still Bette. But the woman standing right in front of me is once again the Better Porter that I met. Self-assured, confident, strong. She’s more whole now, more together than I have ever seen her been. So different from the woman I last saw in Canada.

    “Shane.” She takes a step toward me and opens her arms. I move into them and let her enfold me. There’s been too many changes for both of us. But I cannot shake the feeling of finally coming home as I bask in the warmth of her embrace. I pull apart.

    “How?”

    “Did I find you?” She finishes for me. I nod.

    “Being a dean has its perks. Besides, the hottest hair stylist of New York can’t very well keep from the limelight. And there’s just not that many McCutcheons named Shane who just graduated from NYU’s Stern’s School of Management while running her very own, very successful salon.” She smirks. And I have to smile. Bette Porter has always been good at research.

    “The correct question, Shane, would be why is it that Better Porter, hothead of the century, took her own sweet time to come and see you.” She looks over to where my daughter is and I start to wonder how much she really knows.

    “So, why then?” I ask. Intrigued. “Because Al said not to go and find you. That you’d come back on your own when you were ready.” She looks at me and starts searching my eyes. “But it’s just been too damn long, Shane. I just couldn’t wait anymore. Besides, I can’t let you get away with not attending my wedding.”

    I stare at her in shock.

    “Now would be a good time to ask to whom I’m getting married to, Shane.” She crosses her arms and smirks.    

    “What?” I said, still not quite getting my bearings.

    “I said now would be a good time for you to ask about who I’m getting married to.”