On Saturday morning, Abby did some therapy shopping—anything to get her mind off Trent. After he’d dropped her off, she’d gotten herself ready for bed and tried to sleep. Tried being the operative word. No matter what she did, the memory of his arms . . . his lips . . . his body . . . assaulted her. She could still smell the scent of his cologne when she closed her eyes.
TriedShe finally gave up on sleep around four o’clock and pulled out her beads. If she wasn’t going to sleep, she might as well do something productive.
Around noon, Abby exited one of her favorite stores with two new additions to her wardrobe. Buying something pretty for herself usually brightened her mood. Today it barely scratched the surface.
Throwing the bags in the trunk of her car, Abby considered her options. Sh
