Mason Hill ended the call as soon as the conference room door closed behind him. He had spent the entire afternoon listening to investors argue about projections he already knew were wrong. He wanted nothing more than to breathe outside the glass tower in downtown Phoenix, so he left through a side exit and walked toward the parking lot where his driver waited with the SUV idling.
Traffic was crawling. Mason sat in the back seat, loosening his tie, trying to will his mind to shut up for five minutes. He glanced out the window at a strip mall, expecting nothing unusual, then felt his whole body lock in place.
A woman was standing near the entrance of a small grocery store, holding a sagging paper bag. Her hair was pulled back, her clothes looked worn from too many long days, and her shoulders were slumped with exhaustion. Three little boys stood beside her.
Three boys with the same eyes he saw in the mirror every morning.
His breath snagged in his throat. That was Kara. The person he had once believed he would spend his life with. The person he had left behind six years earlier when opportunity called and he ran toward it without looking back.
He leaned closer to the window, but a truck passed in front of them and blocked his view. He slapped the seat in front of him.
“Stop the car,” he said.
The driver hit the brakes and Mason stepped out before the vehicle fully settled. He ignored the horns and the strangers staring at him. He searched the sidewalk, heart thundering, scanning for the only person whose face still lived in the quiet corners of his memory.
He spotted her at the far end of the lot. She was guiding the three boys into a rideshare, lifting them in one at a time with practiced patience. Mason tried to call out, but the car pulled away and disappeared into the flow of traffic before he took two steps forward.
He stood there, stunned, feeling something heavy and sharp unravel inside him.
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