Instead, I opened the door and found the girl I had carried theif in my heart for two decades standing on my porch in a faded delivery menu jacket.
Same dimples. Same wide brown eyes. Same gentle mouth I had once watched smiling beneath the prom lights when I was seventeen and too broken to believe in miracles.
Charlotte held out the food with both hands, her fingers trembling from the cold, a damp baseball cap shadowing her face.
“Your order, sir.”
Sir.
Not Tyler.
