45
“Please, Aunt Etta. I need to talk to him before I do this.” She nodded, concern etched in the creases of her eyes as she left the room. I wanted to pace. Nervous energy coiled in my muscles, making it hard to sit still, but the train on my dress made pacing a challenge. Instead, I stood at a window and watched the leaves on a large oak beside the church sway in the breeze until an ominous awareness moved through me, lighting a fever from the nape of my neck to the base of my spine. When I turned, Conner stood in the doorway dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit, his inscrutable stare bearing down on me. I wanted to thrash my fists against his broad chest and scream at him for being so insufferably handsome yet seemingly unreachable. I hadn’t known him long, but I wasn’t sure an eter
- Writer
