Page 22 of The Woman at the Funeral

Fuck, those pajamas.

“True. Next time Danny gets dragged in, they’re gonna be at her door looking for bail.”

“Maybe not. She was talking about moving. I gave her the name of my real estate agent.”

“Of course you did.”

“No reason for the smirk. I jotted down a name and number, that’s it.”

“Sure. You’re not imagining a place for the two of you to move into or anything. Extra bedrooms for all those kids you know you want.”

“She’sMatt’swidow.”

“And from the sound of things, the marriage was already over before he died.”

“It’s still wrong.”

Leo pushed out his chair and collected his trash.

“I think the only person who thinks that is you.”

With that, he tossed his garbage and headed out the front door. Leaving me alone, once again, with my conflicted thoughts.

And no escape from the way Blair overtook them all.

CHAPTER SIX

Blair

My apartment was suffocating me.

Everywhere I went, I was either overwhelmed with all the lost dreams swept under the rugs and hiding in the corners, or distracted by my packing.

Was I going to pay a hefty fee to break my lease? Absolutely. Would it be worth it to start over (again)? I thought so.

It honestly hadn’t really even crossed my mind until Nico mentioned it.

I’d spent months finding the perfect apartment. One that had been redone enough that I didn’t have to worry about strangers in my space, but still kept its bones. One with extra bedrooms for an office and kids. One with a large kitchen that spilled into the living room so I wouldn’t be isolated from everyone as I cooked meals. In a good school district. With great parks and markets close-by.

It had been the perfect apartment for the family I so desperately wanted.

But with those dreams shattered, it was time to move on. Immediately. If at all possible.

I’d wasted no time getting in touch with Nico’s real estate agent, telling her my price range and list of necessities (location, doorman, laundry in the apartment, large kitchen, soaking tub, updated, and with a gym in the building or one nearby) as well as some other wishlist items. The one thing I’d compromised on with my current place was having a small and windowless office. I wanted everything to be drenched in sunlight in the new place. Hoping, I guess, that it would chase away any possible ghosts haunting dark corners or hiding in my closets.

So far, I had two apartments I liked but wasn’t fully in love with. That said, I had ninety-percent of everything I owned in boxes. Because the second I found the right place, I was gone.

Even knowing that, the damn boxes everywhere felt like they were suffocating me.

I needed to get out.

I’d been standing in my living room in my black leggings and matching t-shirt, sports bra, running shoes, and ‘safe’ earbuds (that let you hear your surroundings as well as your audio) all ready to go.

Just waiting for sunrise.

It crept up like hope—soft, unhurried, full of promise. The night’s shadows withdrew with grace, and in their place, golden light bloomed like second chances.

Rolling the tension out of my neck, I made my way out of my building, bouncing on my toes at the crosswalk, then making my way across the street toward Central Park.

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