We were still married on paper. I just never found the energy to finish what he started.
And now there was a baby in my kitchen wearing my daughter’s jacket.
I set the basket on the table and forced myself to move.
There was a diaper bag, formula, two sleepers, and wipes. Whoever brought her hadn’t dumped her and run. They had planned this.
We were still married on paper.
The baby kept staring, solemn as a little judge.
I touched the jacket again. The left cuff was still frayed where Jennifer used to chew it when she was anxious.
I slipped my hand into the pocket.
Paper. My pulse was so loud in my ears, I felt dizzy. I unfolded the note slowly, smoothing it with both hands.
« Jodi,
Continue on the next page:
