Slow.
Deliberate.
A shadow moved across the light.
I held my breath.
A few seconds later, footsteps continued toward the kitchen.
Only after I heard the refrigerator open did I dare move.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, although I knew nothing was okay anymore.
I slipped the letter beneath my pillow and guided Sophie into bed beside me.
“We’ll talk in the morning.”
“But Daddy—”
“I promise.”
She eventually fell asleep with her teddy bear clutched against her chest.
I didn’t sleep at all.
Instead, I waited until the house was completely quiet before retrieving the letter.
It was written on a single sheet of yellow legal paper, folded into a tiny square.
Grant’s handwriting was unmistakable.
My husband had always written capital letters slightly crooked, especially when he was rushing.
He also underlined important words twice.
I knew those details better than I knew my own handwriting.
