Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emma pushed back from her desk with a groan. Fresh air. Fresh air would clear her head. Help her chase the cobwebs away so she could think. Grabbing her sweater, she made her way to the rooftop garden that sat atop Royal Fountain’s building at Sixteenth and Main.
The week had crawled by, punctuated only by the hassle of purchasing a new phone, and remotely shutting off the stolen devices. Wherever they were now, they’d be nothing more than paperweights. The worst? The most heart-wrenching confirmation that Sterling meant every word he’d spoken to her? His silence.
Emma sighed heavily as she pushed through the doors and into the late morning sun. The spring air was ripe with possibility. A riot of color exploded from several large planters near the balcony. Hyacinths
