“My mom’s been gone less than two weeks.”
“This is healing,” she said.
“It looks rushed,” I answered.
My father walked in then.
“Not today, Tessa,” he said sharply when I asked why he couldn’t wait.
That’s when I understood — it wasn’t about grief. It was about choosing her.
I left before I said something unforgivable. I ended up crouched by the side gate, trying not to throw up while champagne glasses clinked behind me.
That’s when Mason found me.
Corrine’s son. Quiet. Watchful.
“Tessa,” he said carefully. “Can we talk?”
He pulled me behind the shed.
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