She laughed so loudly that the waitress glanced over.
And for the first time in twenty-two years, Karen Mercer seemed to be laughing for herself.
When I dropped her at her sister’s house just before dawn, she paused with one hand on the passenger door.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“You’ve thanked me about six times.”
“I might need to thank you seven.”
“There’s a loyalty program. Your eighth ride is free.”
She smiled.
Then she leaned across and kissed my cheek.
It was a simple gesture.
A brief touch.
Nothing that should have mattered.
But when she stepped out and walked toward the house, I sat behind the wheel for several minutes, staring at the place where she had been sitting.
I knew I was in trouble.
I just didn’t know how much trouble.
The Woman Michael Thought He Could Discard
The following weeks were difficult for everyone.
