rity polo match

hats, the air thick with the smell of

ate

here, another one of his "it's for a good cause, Mackenz

t of place in a borrowed blazer, nudged me

owed h

g Presc

ss like art history. He looked different, taller, his shoulders broader under a perfectl

definition of everyt

tress, his hand on her arm, his smile a

d move, Sterl

ut through the chatter li

"Mind your own

ng said, his eyes cold. "And yo

No one talked to my

f between them. "He said, mind

I saw a flicker of something, a memory of t

ice flat. "Of course. Your f

loud enough to turn a few heads. "Maybe you've forgot

ike," he replied, not backing d

ing and walking away. The waitress scurried off,

e same soft, en

till ha

stant memory. My father found me on the v

a probl

a run-in with last year. It was blackmail. Photos of me at a wild party, doctored to look far w

said, his voice strained. "Vand

This was my fault. M

asked, my own voi

ooking older than I' d ever seen him.