Nala. I watched Jordan , my fiancé, turn and leave the room. A feeling of longing, so intense I felt it physically, filled me. Part of me wanted him, impossibly, irresponsibly, almost as much as the sensible part of me craved distance and protection from him. It was like a tug of war, each desire pulling at me from opposite sides. And the sensible part of me had to win.It had to.The dining room at the castillo was extremely formal. The high ceilings and ornately framed artwork gave the room a museumlike quality. The long banquet style table could easily have seated thirty or forty people, and added to the wholly impersonal feel of the room. It made stupid, emotional tears prick at my eyes.A child couldn’t sit and color at this table. They certainly couldn’t eat milk and cookies and peanut butter and jelly at this table. Finger painting was probably out, too, since it was likely a priceless antique.Of course, i knew there were other tables in a place this big.Jordan ’s quarters l
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