n light. A cellist played a low, resonant melody from the co

, his eyes locking onto the corn

set of yellowed orchestra scores spread across the

bourbon, his grey eyes watching her with open admiration

r aside, letting the legs sc

m interrupting

tly. She looked up, her expressio

e you permission

ith a soft click, leaning back in hi

spaces uninvited is hardly the etiq

nclothes security personnel positioned around the perimet

glared at Kimberley's low-cut neckline,

and abandoned our son just

us's coat, pointing a finger at Kimberle

with a stranger! I am telling Aunt

dull thud against Kimberley's ribs, but the pain passed

s. Instead, she turned to

t seems stray dogs have

lifting the wine bottle and t

eet cannot disrupt our review of

and showcase, Atticus let

nstrument in half a decade? You think hiring an actor to

sh, the entrance doo

eath an oversized designer blazer, stumbled into

her voice trembling wit

ith alarm, rushing

bed? The doctor or

over Kimberley's stunning dress with a flash

id you two would fight... I cannot

ntage red wine in her glass, watching

y from Atticus and staggered toward th

s back to me. I only have half a year

hands forward, aiming straight for the delicate, antique sheet m

exes, snatching the score away whil

d heavily onto the hard marble floor,

lift her up before turning on Kimberley with m

as if he were the most p

d, I suggest you donate your eyes to

toward the ceiling corner, where a 360-degree high-defin

footage onto the Nasdaq billboard in Times Square so you