“I learned that today,” I said.
“Took some people a lot longer than one day,” he said. “Lock that door behind me.”
I did.
Then I opened the keypad app and deleted every code.
Mine. The contractor’s.
And Lauren’s.
My thumb hovered over hers for a long moment before I pressed it.
Code deleted.
It felt like the end of something.
I hoped it would also be the beginning of something else.
Rachel and I ordered pizza and ate it on the floor of my living room, in the empty space where Mark’s recliner had been sitting a few hours earlier. We didn’t talk much. Rachel found an old radio station playing songs from the seventies, and we sat with our backs against the wall, listening to Fleetwood Mac and watching the light go gold and then blue through my front windows.
Around nine o’clock, there was a soft knock on the side door.
