Cassidy held the letter in her lap.
She’d promised Russell that she wouldn’t read it without him, but it was the first of the month and here it was in her lap. He’d insisted that she wait a week. He would come over after her interviews were done and they’d go and play along the Amalfi coast for a week. He’d bring photos of the lighthouse and be there while she read the letter.
She knew he wanted to protect her from whatever the next letter held. And he’d been kind enough to insist without throwing her last debacle in her face—forty-three bottles, almost six thousand dollars in wine, some of it irreplaceable. Worst of all, it had been days before she could face drinking any wine at all. By the time she could, everything she’d opened that night had gone bad.
No, she was strong enough to d
