Chapter Sixty-Three
Michaela
With an eighty-seven-degree Tuesday forecast, I secured my hair off my neck and wore my lightest-weight work-appropriate blouse and skirt. One of the drawbacks about Southern California was our weather was never consistent—today it could be hot and dry, tomorrow it could be cold and raining, and that was almost every day of the year.
Whoever gave out-of-towners the impression it was seventy-five and perfect was a damn liar, and clearly wanting to sell beach real estate.
My work day had no surprise deliveries or panic attacks, thank God, and I was settling into my normal rhythm by lunch. Lincoln had only texted a good-morning wish that I had a good day and he looked forward to tonight, and otherwise left me alone.
The afternoon was spent transcribing/proofr
