A few days later, I received an email from the archaeological expedition.
I'd made it to the final interview.
The day after I was accepted, I went to the mall to buy everything I'd need for the excavation in the American Southwest.
With both hands full of shopping bags, I was heading toward the escalator when I saw two familiar faces stepping out of a bridal boutique on the sixth floor.
Steven Collins.
Francine Davis.
The instant Steven noticed me, he hurriedly let go of Francine's hand.
A moment earlier, she'd been smiling with quiet satisfaction. The smile disappeared the second our eyes met.
"Megan..." Steven said awkwardly. "What are you doing here?"
I looked at him without the slightest change in expression.
"What? Does my ex-husband get to decide where I'm allowed to shop n
