Chapter Twenty-Three
Sutton
It would be so easy to look her up. So easy to find out where she is, to show up where she lives. It’s the greatest struggle of my day, not searching for her. I scan every face when I walk into a restaurant or a coffee shop.
I look for her in the street, but I don’t let myself look her up.
My grief this time looks different. It’s not about drinking or feeling sorry for myself. I throw myself into work, building my own life. Building something I can be proud of.
Something that would make me worthy of her.
I’m sitting in my office, working on the plans when someone knocks.
“I’m eating,” I tell Mrs. Ness without looking up. There’s a turkey sandwich, potato salad, and a large slice of key lime pie waiting for me on my desk.
“I’m not Mrs. Ness,” comes a voic
