missed that celebration too.
Work.
Always work.
Until work was no longer what kept him away.
The morning after Lily died, I sent David one final message.
Not because I wanted him.
Because someday, I wanted proof I’d done everything possible.
Lily died yesterday at 6:14 p.m.
Her funeral is Monday at 10 a.m. at St. Matthew’s.
I will not contact you again.
The message was delivered.
No reply.
Months later, Julianne admitted David had read it.
He simply hadn’t believed me.
According to her, he’d stared at his screen and said, “She’s trying to force me home.”
I eventually learned those words through attorneys.
For a long time, I wished I hadn’t.
Freezing rain fell Monday morning.
Lily’s teacher stood beneath a black umbrella alongside twenty-three parents from her class.
Her principal attended.
Her soccer coach.
The elderly neighbor three houses away who gave Lily peppermint
