It would be the woman who refused to disappear, standing back up, and looking me dead in the eye, and saying: there you are.

I wondered where you went.

Chapter 7 — Dry Cleaning on a Thursday

“Hey — Delaney?” Trent called from the kitchen as I opened the front door that morning, the cold air hitting my face.

“Swing by the dry cleaner and grab my suits on your way back, would you?

Got an important networking thing tomorrow.”

I stopped in the doorway.

Two things did not fit, and both of them landed at once.