(Rebecca's POV)
The note is on the counter, and it's wrong before I even read the words.
Eric's handwriting is fast, slanted, always a little rushed — but this is worse than rushed. This is careless. Errands. Back tonight. Love you both. No kiss mark. No little doodle in the corner, the crooked heart he draws without thinking about it, the one he's drawn on grocery lists since we started dating. Just four words and his name, like he wrote it standing up, like he wrote it already halfway out the door.
I set my coffee down. I read it again. Still wrong.
I tell myself it's nothing. People have errands. People forget the heart doodle sometimes, especially on a Tuesday, especially in April when the orchard's coming back to life and there's a hundred small fires that need putting out before
