The car ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Cammy leaned her head slightly on the passenger window, watching the city blur by in golden streaks of light.
Her heart was heavy with everything that had just happened—from Richard's blessing to the unspoken pain in Greg's eyes—but beside her, Ric's steady hand on the steering wheel grounded her.
He didn't speak, didn't pressure her with questions. He just drove. Always patient. Always there.
As they pulled into the familiar neighborhood, a soft breeze carried the scent of rain from earlier in the evening. Ric parked in front of Cammy's building, and as they stepped out, an older couple stood by the lobby doors.
Mr. James and Mrs. Brenda Moore, the elderly owners of the rooftop apartment of Cammy, waved with wide smiles.
"There she is!" Mrs. Moore called out, her pearl earrings bobbing as she approached.
"We've been waiting for you all evening," Mr. James added, his leather shoes tapping against the tiled ground.
