“What if seeing me hurts Jack?” I muse aloud.
“Time heals, or he may need closure, too. Heck, he may have a new girlfriend and will be happy for you.”
I grimace hard. I wish she didn’t say that. It isn’t fair for me to hope he hasn’t moved on.
So, I mumble into the phone. “Jack wants nothing to do with me.”
She growls. “Morgan.Stop. Jesus wants you to be grateful. Practice what you preach. Be grateful he is free, healthy, and hopefully, happy.”
An image flashes. Him with Claire or some other bombshell. Groping each other.
I’m selfish. I know it. And I don’t care.
“No,” I hiss. “I need to go eat something. I’ll talk to you later.”
It’s a lie.
Ingrid whines, but says she loves me and we end the call.
Not long after, I startle.
Ingrid appears at my office doorway wearing a mischievous smile.
I shoot to my feet, astonished she stepped into this church.
“What are you doing here?”
“Come on. I left work early. Let’s go before someone sees me and calls your a-hole dad.”
I hold myself and glance around. My voice cracks. “I can’t. I promised him I wouldn’t go anywhere without telling him. He wouldnotapprove.”
She grabs my hand and drags me out of my office. “This life you are living is not free will. It’s sacrilegious.”
She isn’t wrong. Nothing I do nowadays feels like it’s of my own free will.
I know I shouldn’t, but I am so dead inside, I don’t have the energy to fight her pull. I let her lead me like her prisoner.
As we slip out the back door, something catches in my peripheral.
Blake.
He says nothing, but his expression is fixed and discouraged. It knots my stomach. I don’t want to have secrets or disappoint him, but I can’t force it. Maybe Ingrid is right. I need closure before I can move on.
Maybe this is for more than myself.
My body is numb as I look out of the windshield at the center.
I cringe, feeling like this could be a dangerous and foolish mistake.
Gosh, if he gets mad seeing me, it’ll crush what’s left of my heart. This is so wrong to just show up unannounced.
Ingrid doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest. She’s already out of the car, purse over her shoulder, and striding fast.
I hurry after her.
A faintcreaksounds as we walk through the old door.
It’s quiet.
