“Yes.”
“There’s a block of them near the engine room, on the lower deck—”
“Those sound perfect.”
She hesitated, and I could hear her deciding whether to ask.
“And your penthouse suite?”
I looked out my condo window at the sunrise coming up over the city, the first sunrise in a very long while that felt like it was mine.
“Leave mine,” I said, “exactly as it is.”
And for the first time since my mother’s message, I smiled.
“I’ll be going after all.”
Chapter 8 — Boarding Alone