Chapter 16
Perhaps Bart should have stayed in Italy and never come to Miami.
Or bought this place. He paced his house again and glanced at the walls.
Who honestly cared that he could thumb his nose at his father now that the man was dead?
Perhaps it was stupid to think he could move here and not feel small.
And partly unwanted.
Bart's shoulders slumped like they had the day his mother had died. Sorrow had engulfed him.
This was similar. He stepped into the bedroom--Rebecca haunted the place.
The bed smelled like her.
The shower still had her ghost in the droplets of water and her rose and lavender scent.
Everywhere was Rebecca and yet she was gone.
His doorbell rang and he pulled himself together.
It was time for his family to help him celebrate his first Miami home. Hopefully
