ELARA
The coffee had gone cold again.
I noticed it when I lifted the cup to my lips and tasted nothing but that flat, room-temperature bitterness that meant I'd been sitting here too long without moving. The third time today, maybe the fourth.
I poured it down the sink and watched it spiral away.
Kieran hadn't been home in days. Not on Monday, not on Tuesday, not on any of the days since that night when he'd said if that's what you want and walked out the door. .
Not that it mattered. He was probably busy with the lawyers now.
When the papers arrived, I would put my name at the bottom and that would be it.
This was good. This was what I'd asked for. This was the only possible ending to a story that should never have begun.
The walk to the Whitmore Collection took twenty-three minu
