His seat was still open, and Luke reclaimed it and placed the box on his lap. Sitting in the barren, chair-lined room gave him a sense of déjà vu. It felt like he’d been in a waiting room since Natalie’s death—waiting for a letter, waiting for instructions, waiting to feel something other than sorrow, waiting for May to smile without guilt, for Will to feel like he belonged in their family, Clayton to sleep without a phone in his hands, for Annie to find peace.
