Abby I suddenly jolt up from my seat so abruptly that my chair falls to the floor with a clatter behind me. The table falls silent. My staff and Damon all blink up at me, each face more confused than the last. “Abby, are you quite alright?” Damon asks, rising cautiously. “Are you hurt?” I sw
“I see.” Damon is still holding the paper bag with the box slid halfway out. He looks down at it for a moment longer before he looks up at me. “Are you seeing someone?” At his words, I feel my face heat up. This isn’t exactly the discussion I was hoping to have tonight, and the thought of Karl jus
Karl The pleasant yellow flowers sitting on my passenger seat bob and bounce as I drive up the winding road to the prince’s estate. On one side of me, there’s a stretch of rolling fields and a smattering of little seaside cottages here and there. On the other side, below a dropoff of large boulder
“Why?” I ask, standing now myself. “Not even for five minutes?” “No.” Damon turns, his eyes flashing in the flickering light of the fireplace. “I’m sorry. But… I will allow you to explain yourself first. I have, after all, only heard one side of the story.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my
Abby I always hated the color yellow. To me, it was like the color of a lukewarm stick of butter or jaundice. But everything changed when I was trying to pick out my wedding bouquet. “Dammit. I really had my heart set on those lilies,” I said with a huff. “Now what am I supposed to pick?” “W
“Abby! Good morning,” he says, folding the newspaper up and setting it on the desk. “Come in, come in.” “Morning, Damon,” I say as I step into the room. Damon rises from his chair as I approach. “Do you need something?” he asks. “It’s a bit early—” “This is embarrassing.” I can’t help but chuc
Abby I always hated the color yellow. To me, it was like the color of a lukewarm stick of butter or jaundice. But everything changed when I was trying to pick out my wedding bouquet. “Dammit. I really had my heart set on those lilies,” I said with a huff. “Now what am I supposed to pick?” “W
“Abby! Good morning,” he says, folding the newspaper up and setting it on the desk. “Come in, come in.” “Morning, Damon,” I say as I step into the room. Damon rises from his chair as I approach. “Do you need something?” he asks. “It’s a bit early—” “This is embarrassing.” I can’t help but chuc