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I cross the living room, crying out as I stub my toe on the coffee table next to the couch. I curse out loud—this place needs serious help. If I were to stay here, I’d do a full redecoration of the main room. No, the whole house.

I swallow. I’m getting ahead of myself.

My eyes go to the only light shining in the big open space—there’s an under-cabinet light on in the kitchen, and on the counter under it, a note with a phone next to it.

I pick it up. The note says simply:

Sasha—for you.

-G

I smile and slide the phone on. The background is an image of the sun setting over a field of wildflowers. I run my finger over the ray of light slicing across the screen.

There’s an alert—six, actually.

GRIFFIN: Call whoever you like except your brother for now. There’s a block on here so no one can see your number. Please don’t tell anyone where you are until I figure things out.

GRIFFIN: There’s a credit card loaded on here so you can order whatever you need. The address is saved in the Notes app.

GRIFFIN: There’s a casserole thing in the oven my sister dropped off. Help yourself.

GRIFFIN: I’m in the workshop.

I look up: there’s a hallway next to me lined with several doors. The one at the end has a line of light under it.

GRIFFIN: You should sleep more. I’ll be around when you wake up.

My chest tightens. He’s really thought of everything.

I check the time on the phone, shocked to see it’s almost eleven. I yawn. Even though I slept all day, all I want to do is crawl back into bed again. But my stomach feels raw and empty.

SASHA: I guess you ate already?

A few seconds pass, then three dots pop up on the screen.

GRIFFIN: Eat whenever you want.

That’s not really an answer.

I tell him I’m going to shower and ask if it’s okay to borrow some sweats.

He thumbs-up the message, and I fight off the little push of disappointment that he’s staying out there. I could go see him, but suddenly all I want is to be rid of these clothes. I strip them off, not bothering to wait until I’m fully in the bathroom. I want to burn them, to burn all traces of that day in New York.

Hell, I want to burn away my existence in that city.

I flick on all the lights as I pass, not caring that there are windows everywhere. The only person out there is Chester, and I don’t think the house is visible from his. Even if it is, I don’t even care about giving the old guy a show. He did ask me to marry him, after all.

The smile on my lips dies as I remember the second proposal I got this weekend. I still haven’t answered Griffin.

Somehow I can’t. Not yet. Even if it’s not real. It’s stillmarriage.

In the bathroom, I step into the old clawfoot tub, turning on the shower extension. I close the curtain, then suddenly feel claustrophobic. Would it be weird to ask Griffin to come back into the main house while I’m in here?

I resist the urge to get out and text him. I’m a grown woman. Instead, I soap up, using the toiletries I was delighted to find Vivian carried on her little cosmetics table.

After I’m done, I step out and towel off, humming a song to myself.

When I open the bathroom door, towel wrapped around my body, I realize the bedroom door is open, and Griffin is frozen in the doorframe.