MONICA
“So you went to school on the East Coast, huh?” Jack watched Monica, dark eyes glistening
over the top of his caramel macchiato. “How’d you get from Briar Cliff to Seattle?”
Monica twisted the napkin in her lap and weighed whether Briar Cliff was a safe topic
for their second coffee date. They’d already dispensed with the pleasantries of weather
and drink orders, but Briar Cliff meant Jeremy and her parents—and Lily. It was a
huge can of worms, one she’d kept inside for almost twenty years. She wasn’t sure
she was ready to let it out, but Jack had called every other day for two weeks until
Monica had agreed to see him again. Now she sat in Crazy Carl’s with a shredded napkin
in her lap and an interesting man showing her rapt attention.
“You sound like my dad,” she said, gl
