But mornings came.
Then weeks.
Then seasons.
I moved into a small apartment near the park.
Not with Owen.
Not yet.
I needed to learn who I was when I was not Caleb’s fiancée, not my parents’ sick daughter, not Owen’s rescued woman, not the bride without a groom.
Just Emily.
I bought ugly yellow curtains because Caleb would have hated them.
I adopted a senior dog named Meatball because Owen said I should start with a plant and I disliked his tone.
Meatball hated everyone except my father.
My father was honored.
Owen and I dated slowly.
So slowly my mother asked if we were being supervised by the government.
We went to diners.
We walked in the park.
We argued about coffee.
We visited Lucy’s grave, where Owen introduced me as “the woman who proved me right and wrong at the same time.”
I placed white daisies by the stone.
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