CARMEN
My stomach twisted so sharply it almost hurt. After all these years, the sight made my mouth water. I swallowed hard and nodded, fighting to keep my voice steady, afraid that any attempt to speak might unravel the control I still held.
A burger.
The memory hit fast and vivid.
My dad is at the grill, sleeves rolled up. He's laughing with his friends—usually the Murphys—while smoke curls up into the summer air. My mom was sitting nearby, smiling that soft smile she always had when she watched him. Music is playing somewhere in the background. The smell of charcoal, seasoning, and home.
Home.
My chest tightened, a pang of longing and grief crashing through the memory of home.
I had thought I was getting that again when I married Arthur. But there had never been a softer side wit
