The nurse blushed and hurried out. I looked at Mark. He didn’t look like a billionaire. He looked like a man who read paper books and knew how to be quiet.
“Is it true?” I asked.
“It’s just information, Jessica. It doesn’t change the broth.”
Cliffhanger: He left the hospital the same day I did. He insisted on driving me home. As we pulled up to my five-story walk-up, I saw a moving van pulling away from the curb—Evan was officially gone, and the emptiness of my life was about to be laid bare.
Chapter 6: The Architecture of an Empty Room
The apartment smelled of stale air and a haunting, clinical emptiness. My eyes immediately went to the living room. The spot where Evan’s throne-like armchair had sat was now a glaring, naked rectangle on the carpet. The floor lamp was gone. The coat rack was bare, save for my single, lonely trench coat.
