I set the invitation on the counter and stared out the window at the gray February skyline. Snow clung to the rooftops in uneven patches, and traffic crawled below in long ribbons of red brake lights. Somewhere down on the street a siren wailed, then faded.
I should have said no right then.
I should have tossed the invitation into the trash, blocked every number in my family, and gone on with the quiet, hard-earned life I had built out of the wreckage they left behind.
Instead, I leaned both hands on the counter and closed my eyes.
Because it wasn’t that simple.
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