Every muscle in my body froze.

I leaned over the railing.

One floor beneath us, Grant stood on another balcony with the blonde woman from the plane.

She crossed her arms.

“You promised Charleston would be romantic.”

“It is romantic.”

“Not when you complain about every dollar.”

Grant sighed.

Then he said something that removed every remaining doubt.

“One day you are going to discover that being pretty does not solve every problem.”

My fingers tightened around the railing.

He had once said almost the same thing to me.

It happened after Miles was born, when I mentioned returning to work. I had been exhausted and insecure, and instead of encouraging me, Grant made a similar remark with a smile.

I had remembered it ever since.

No stranger could carry that sentence.

Grant Harper was alive.

And he had chosen not to come home.

## Sitting Three Seats Away

The following evening, I found him in the hotel lounge.

I had learned his room was one floor below ours, though I still didn’t know how long he had lived as “Caleb.”

I sat at the far end of the bar wearing glasses and a light jacket.

Grant was alone.

Sienna had apparently left after another argument.

Eventually, he looked toward me.

“You look like someone having a better night than I am.”

The absurdity almost made me laugh.

The husband I had mourned was making casual conversation because he didn’t recognize his own wife.