The sun was low in the sky when Andrew pulled up in front of Amelia’s apartment building. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. His heart beat slower than usual—too calm for a man about to walk into a storm. Or maybe it was numbness.
Either way, he was tired of playing around the edges of truth.
Tonight, he was diving in.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, rehearsing nothing, because there was no script for this. Just truth—and hope that it was enough.
When Amelia opened the door, she looked both surprised and guarded.
“Andrew,” she said, folding her arms. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”
He gave her a soft smile. “Can I come in?”
A long pause.
Then, reluctantly, she stepped aside.
He entered, the scent of cinnamon and baby pow
