It’s officially been eight days since Noah returned and knocked on my door, and even less since he strolled into the bank. When I saw Gemma at the boutique and told her what happened, I let it be known that he better be glad he left in one piece. I’m harboring a decade full of emotions, so my reactions when he’s around are more than valid.
After Owen and I finish eating lunch, he helps me clean up, then goes to his room.
As I wash the dishes and wipe down the counter, my mind wanders back to the past several years and how strong I’ve had to be. Juggling work, my son, and paying for everything. Anything I need, I do my damn self. Sometimes I resent Gabe for cheating and leaving me to do everything on my own, but then I feel guilty as hell about it because of the way he died.
Grief is wei
