ount of time, the t

the window. The storm had weakened to a drizzle, Manhattan

d the bal

misting her face. She gripped the metal railing an

ht, its engine off. A silent black shape in the wet gloom. She watched the car for a full five minutes, until

ony door. Her teeth

ers until the skin pinked. She stood under the spray and saw his face a

s l

he torn settlement papers lay where she'd left them. She smoothed th

ance. Not

d, purposeful

sofa with her phone, scrolling through contacts she hadn't used i

n who booked Hartwell's flights, mana

ncierge or a reservation line. Her world had become so small. The thought almost made her drop the phone. But then the image of the

rings.

ed the particular caution of a man

when he'd loved her ambition. "Blue Bottle Coffee. Central Park West. Te

is hesitation. "Mrs. R

p columnist. I'm sure they'd love to hear about Hartwell's three-mont

ded th