Michael couldn’t tell exactly how old he was. It had been a month, and no one had come calling. Silent partner, preferred shares, controlling interest—but he’s the invisible man. After three days, he was looking for someplace he could ditch Svetlana with a clean conscience.
“Every detail works,” he said, noticing a fat bumble bee, spattered with yellow pollen, launching herself into flight from a pink cistus flower. It was very brief. Kosonen’s hands tickled. Only once did I find enough courage to tell him what was in my heart.
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