Some fresh fruit and turkey slices for sandwiches.

As I stood in the checkout line, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out quickly, fearing it was Richard.

It was a text from Dylan.

“We are at the hotel,” it read. “The room is nice. Chloe stopped crying. Thanks, Mom.”

A heavy weight lifted from my shoulders.

“Get some sleep,” I texted back. “I will see you tomorrow. I love you both.”

“Love you,” he replied.

I paid the cashier and carried the plastic bags back to the apartment.

I put the groceries away in the quiet kitchen.

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the room.

I walked to the window and looked out at the city skyline.

The frost on the windowpane reflected the blue and white lights of the skyscrapers.

I felt a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness.

Twenty years of marriage, gone in a single week.

I remembered the day Richard and I bought the Westlake lot.

He had stood on the edge of the hill, looking down like a king surveying his territory.