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Summary
“You haven’t written a book in over 20 years. What brought about this change?” A journalist sat in the front row of a small D.C. bookstore asked, a notepad sitting in her lap. The warmth of the lighting in the store bled through the windows, illuminating the dark sky and snow that fell from it.
What happened 19 years ago was not something I liked to think about often. It was a version of me that I refused to acknowledge. Sometimes it slipped through the cracks.
Tonight was one of those nights.
A book tour, a book signing, and a face I hadn't seen in 19 years.
Beautiful as the day he left me.
(Sequel to The Only Exception)
Series
- Part 2 of It was rare, I was there