3 months later, in early summer, Rachel left a meeting with a stack of reports and headed down the top-floor corridor at Westbridge. Beyond the windows, the city stretched toward a sunlit river.
There was hot coffee on her desk, and a note tucked beside it.
Come home early. I'm making your favorites.
She smiled and put it in her drawer. The stack in there was getting thick. Almost one per day since she'd officially joined Westbridge 3 months ago.
Some notes read: Don't work too hard. Remember to eat lunch. Others said, Rain tonight. Your umbrella's by the door. Sometimes, there were only two words: Miss you.
When she got home, Nathan was at the stove in an apron, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, searing a steak. A pot of creamy mushroom soup simmered beside it. She'd mentioned once
