er, I was bac

Claire Anderson, lead architect on the new

tral Park. The air was cool, the city lights a gl

ing me a story about his disastrous attempt at sailing. I w

And ther

n Ca

is suit, but the same easy confidence, the same dark hair.

ing a shift, put a light hand on the small

id, my voice cold

lickered from my face to Julian' s hand

oice was a low rumble th

d, my tone flat.

e back," he said, igno

ack for a we

uld have

uld I d

d. He looked lost. Then his eyes ha

ng into his tone. The same tone he used in high schoo

extended a hand. "Julian Cro

me, invading my space. "You need to be careful, Cla

that a laugh escaped my lips.

e me?"

ilky voice said f

his. She looked me up and down, a faint, condescending smile on her

buried for a decade f

king him straight in the eye. "I learned a

ook Julian's arm, and walke