He was hungry and needed a diaper change.
Or it would be if I could find Juniper Hill. Thousands of miles and we’d finally made it to Quincy. The realization that the only possessions truly mine would fit into a Volvo sedan was. A girl who’d had a private jet at her disposal.
Once, I’d been a girl who’d grown up in a mansion. It seemed like a decade ago that I’d packed up my life-our life-and loaded it into my car. A thousand.Īfter days in the car, I’d begun questioning my every decision, especially this one.Įscaping the city had seemed like the best option. Maybe I should have made a hundred different choices.
Maybe I should have stayed in New York and dealt with the bullshit. Maybe I should have waited and made this trip when he was older. He was only eight weeks old, and while this trip had been hard on me, for him it was probably akin to torture. We’re almost there.” We had to be close, right? This miserable trip had to end.ĭrake cried and cried, not giving a damn about my apology. How could a noise so loud come from such a small person? Frustration seeped from my pores as I desperately scanned the road for a street sign.ĭrake screamed in his car seat, that wailing, heartbreaking, red-faced scream. My palm smacked on the steering wheel, adding a whack with each word. Juniper Hill.” I plucked the sticky note from the cupholder to double-check that I had the correct street name. Karen Lawson, The Proof is in the Reading Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
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