Patricia Ng had made sure of that. “Restitution,” she’d said, with a small, satisfied smile. “It’s one of my favorite words.”
I was in the courtroom when the judge read the sentence.
Mark didn’t look at me once.
When it was over and the bailiff led him toward the side door, I realized I wasn’t waiting for him to turn around. I wasn’t hoping for an apology. I wasn’t rehearsing what I’d say if he tried to explain.
I just picked up my purse, walked out to the parking lot, and drove home.
To my house.
PART 10
Lauren came back in March and stayed for a long weekend.
She helped me paint the kitchen. Sage green, the way I’d always wanted. We played music too loud and got paint in our hair and ate grilled cheese sandwiches standing at the counter because the table was covered in drop cloths.
