rina

orehead with the same lips he'd used on his mistress. The mome

ed the discharge papers-AMA, against medical advic

contaminated. I could still smell her. A faint, cloying floral perfume th

ad been a shrine in my mind.

other's handwritten recipe book, my father's favorite watch, a faded photograph of the three

ltor, a man who owe

of inflection. "I don't care abou

when he appeared. Julian. His face was a mask of wor

e gone. I was so worried." He pulled me into

n. I shoved him away, hard. My hands were flat against his chest, and he stumbled back-not fr

ked, his voice a care

y lost. He tried to placate me, his hands reaching for me again. "I have your birthday gift in the

ous, so shameless, it

d as the grave he was digging for me. "An

g a gentle smile. "We'll go home. I'll cook for you." The arrogance was breathtak

landing, a sudden, cruel impulse took

ely soft. "If I don't get the transp

ct, theatrical grief. Tears welled in his eyes. "Don't say that,

ace its path down his cheek and felt