Monica’s Point of View
I follow Michael’s car at a distance, far enough that he won’t notice me following him, but close enough that I won’t lose him.
He said nothing when he left the house. Not where he was going. Not who he was meeting with.
But I know. I just know it has something to do with her.
He pulls into a small parking lot outside a coffee shop.
I park across the street and stay in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I watch him get out of his car with a big bouquet of flowers and he takes a seat at one of the outdoor tables.
I wait patiently, just watching him.
My jaw tightens when another familiar car pulls up.
For a second I think it might be her, but I am a bit surprised to see Alex stepping out of the car.
Of course it's him.
I feel my teeth grind tog
