balcony of Northstar’s new headquarters looking out over the city.
The company had doubled in value.
The gene-therapy project Daniel had nearly compromised had survived.
A highly respected researcher from Boston now led the program.
Early clinical results looked promising.
I sold the house Daniel and I had shared.
Not because I hated it.
Not because I wanted to erase him.
I simply didn’t want my future built inside rooms created for a life that no longer existed.
One evening, Marcus stepped onto the balcony beside me.
He rested his arms against the railing.
“You ever miss Daniel?”
I thought about it.
Terminal 4.
The white lilies.
Vanessa.
The twins.
The cold weight of my wedding ring landing in Daniel’s hand.
Then I turned and looked through the glass walls at Northstar.
At the company I had quietly built while Daniel assumed I was sitting at home waiting for his
