The next morning I wake up alone, blinking in the sunlight, and the grief and loneliness hits me like a truck.
I stare at my window, looking at the patch of blue sky visible through it and listening to the sound of the gulls cawing outside, thinking that it’s beautiful here by the sea. Thinking that Kent gave me this refuge away from everything so that I could have it no matter what happened to him.
And I realize that he was clever enough to get me a house filled with rooms, because he knew I’d fill it with the people I love. The people we love.
And then I cover my face with my hands, unwilling to look at any of it, sick with the grief of knowing that I’m waking up here on this gorgeous morning, listening to the sounds of birds and the crashing of surf –
And he’s, what? Sitting in
