After You Killed Our Daughter, I'll Never Come Back

Three days before we were supposed to get our marriage license, he was stranded in a conflict zone. His flight went down. No survivors.

I couldn't accept it. Every night I clutched his clothes and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. More than once, I nearly followed him into the dark.

Four years. Everyone told me to move on.

I refused. I was terrified that if I let go, no one would remember how deeply we'd loved each other.

Then, on April Fool's Day, I got a rush order. A private villa needed organizing, plus a home-cooked dinner. Triple my usual rate.