CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
MELINDA
The foundation office was finally ready. After weeks of planning, painting, furniture shopping, and endless paperwork, the space had transformed from an empty storefront into something real. Something mine.
I stood in the middle of the room, taking it all in. The desks Georgia and I had assembled ourselves, slightly crooked but functional. The filing cabinets I'd found at a thrift store and painted a cheerful yellow. The waiting area with mismatched but comfortable chairs. The posters on the walls about women's rights and resources for those escaping difficult situations.
It wasn't fancy. It wasn't polished. But it was perfect.
My phone buzzed. Kieran texting that he was bringing dinner, would be there in twenty minutes. I smiled, warmth spreading through
