❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
Tangent fingertips coming to run against the little hairs on the back of his neck. ❝It’s just, people like YOU don’t end up with people like ME. I haven’t had the best track record.❞
“What do you mean, people like me?” Teddy questioned defensively. “You mean desperate, middle-aged widows who should know better than to fall in love again?”
A moment later, Teddy realized what she’d said. And the look that crossed her face was nothing short of horrified.
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