Chapter Fourteen
Three weeks later…
I brought the groceries up the stairs to the kitchen. I planned a feast for my friend Renee, a five course French dinner—I was learning to cook. After three weeks held up in the condo nursing my wounded psyche, I needed company. Renee had lived next door to me in California when I was in grad school; she’d been taking art classes at Berkeley. Just the person I needed. She’d understand and she wouldn’t judge.
I was putting away the vegetables thinking of the pasta dish I planned, when I suddenly felt an eerie sensation of déjà vu—something from my recent past. Peering absently into the living room, I jumped back and shrieked, the bags of vegetables dropped to the floor.
“What the…”
Garrison. It was Garrison. He turned around at the sound of my voice
