She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

stage light and fractured it.

“It is a beautiful place built by someone else’s rules,” I said.

“It shines from a distance, but every branch cuts your hand when you reach for fruit.”

In the front row, Celeste lowered her eyes.

Graham did not.

He was recovering.

I could see it happen.

Graham Alder had never met a public crisis he could not polish.

By the time continue reading …