entered his mind disappeared.
Maisie had been born well after our divorce.
She was not some hidden connection to Drew.
She represented something much more important.
My life had continued.
Then a man’s voice came from behind us.
“There are my girls.”
Caleb walked over carrying Maisie’s tiny purse.
He wore a navy suit and the mildly exhausted expression of a father who had clearly spent far too long negotiating wedding cake with a four-year-old.
He kissed my cheek.
“I found this under our table.”
Maisie grabbed the purse.
“Thank
