Roxanne Meyers

I read every message Salvatore sent to my phone. Each one confused me even more because, although I longed to be with him, his damn profession as a mafioso and his blood-stained hands were not what I wanted for my life, let alone for my child.

Then I came to a conclusion: Roxanne Meyers had to disappear, in any way, shape, or form, from anywhere.

From the rocking chair I had bought for my house, I watched every day that mysterious man who had been painting the sidewalk across from my house for two months. It was a rocking chair like the one I had at Salvatore's house,...