Morning came anyway and Ashley hadn't slept a wink. The picture sat heavily, where sleep should've been. Julian a small boy in his arms, the child's hand fisted in his shirt like it lived there…
At 5:30 she eased out of bed. The floor was cold. The room smelled faintly of his soap, of the sea they'd only just left. She stood there longer than she meant to, listening to the steady sound of his breathing. He looked younger in sleep. It made it worse.
She dressed quietly, jeans, a soft sweater, hair in a low knot that didn't care to be neat. She took a card from the nightstand and wrote on the back because her hands needed something to do.
Brooke's.
I need some air.
We'll talk later, promise.
—A
She left it on his side of the dresser where he'd see it first. Her phone buzzed in her palm. She'd typed the message three times and never sent it. Now she did.
Ashley: Coming over. Sorry it's early.
Brooke: Door's open. Coffee on. Hurry.
