They were packing up this morning. GreenLee’s family. Laughter echoing through the villa, suitcases thudding against tile floors, hugs that lasted a little too long. I stood back and watched, letting her have the space she needed to say goodbye.
She didn’t cry. Not in front of them. But I saw the way her fingers curled into her palm when Sal kissed her forehead. The way her smile faltered when Lori whispered something I couldn’t hear. She’s strong—stronger than anyone gives her credit for—but this goodbye was layered. Legacy, loss, love. All of it.
Tomorrow, I’m taking her to Paris.
It’s supposed to be our honeymoon. A fresh start. Just the two of us. But I keep wondering if she’s ready. If I’m asking too much too soon. Italy gave her family. Missouri holds her past. Paris… Paris is min
