In the quiet seconds between errands, I wondered inwardly what Paige was doing. How she was feeling. I contemplated calling her before my common sense kicked in. She would start assuming things if I called. She might even start hoping.
And I can’t afford that.
I carry the bags of food up the stairs and head to my bedroom. Our bedroom now, strange as it is to call it that.
I walk in quietly in case she’s already asleep. But I find her sitting by the window, a big cushion propped up behind her back. Her feet are tucked beneath her and she has earbuds in as she stares out at the garden with one hand on her stomach and the other on her pendant. She’s humming along to the music, her head swaying to the beat.
I pause for a moment to watch her. When I’m not around, she looks so at peace here.
