Page 95 of Surrender

“It was much more exciting downstairs,” I agree. Movement pulls my focus from the computer screen to her hand. She holds out a small bag of Hershey’s kisses wrapped with a bow.

“Merry Christmas. You started too late to join in the gift exchange, so I picked this up for ya.”

I blink in surprise. “Thank you. That was really nice of you.”

A red tag glints from behind the silver bow. I flip it over, confirming her name scrawled in black pen.

“You’re welcome.” She smiles kindly. “I’ve only been here about a year myself, so I remember what it’s like.”

“You didn’t grow up in Fairview Valley?”

“Nope. I come from farther up north. Near Canada.”

A smile tilts my lips. “I can hear it in your accent.”

“What accent? Hand me that bag, will you?” She winks as she stretches out the a-sound and lands on a hard g.

I laugh and pass it over.

“I hope you don’t go anywhere. I like you.”

“I don’t plan on it.” I pick up my iced coffee, finishing a sip just as a new patient walks in.

More than ever, I finally feel like I’m somewhere I belong.

* * *

My feet nearly weep as I trade out my work shoes for my winter boots. I wiggle my toes in the extra room. I need to ask Greta what she wears because the shoes I bought last minute in Arizona suck. There are at least two blisters on my right foot and another forming on my left.

I settle in my cold car, waiting for the heater to warm up before I leave. I toss a handful of M&M’s in my mouth, ravenous after the long day. Lunch was over four hours ago, and it’ll be another hour or two until dinner unless I find a fast-food joint to pick something up.

I dig my phone from my purse to search the area when the device rings in my hand. The screen flashesunknown, not even an unsaved number.

With so many things up in the air since the move, I don’t hesitate to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up.”

The familiar silky voice slithers into my ear. “Devon,” I hiss.

“Just don’t hang up.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

My right hand twists around the steering wheel until the knuckles blanch. “Start talking.”

“Can we meet sometime this week? I want to talk face-to-face.”

“No, we can’t meet! God, Devon, I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to understand that you pretended to die, and I don’t ever want to see you again. I don’t know how you could be so heartless. I was your wife—”

“Oh, cut the shit, Whitney.” He gives a humorless laugh. “I was at the bottom of your list. We were husband and wife in name only.”

My voice breaks into a whisper. “How can you say that?”

“It was all about the kids for you. I was just the means for you to get them. So I thought if I could get us into a better situation, maybe you’d pay me more attention again. If I could give you a bigger house and vacations, you could hire a nanny—”

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