Daniel’s POV
She looks different.
That’s my first thought when the elevator doors open and I see Amelia standing there, her back against the far wall like she’s trying to disappear into it.
Her hair is shorter. Cut to her shoulders instead of the long waves I used to wind around my fingers. The same way I saw her in that traffic. Her suit is charcoal gray, professional, severe. Nothing like the soft dresses she used to wear. Those dresses that made her look like she’d stepped out of a garden—floral prints and flowing fabrics that caught the breeze when we walked through Central Park on Sundays.
But her eyes. God, her eyes are exactly the same. Honey-hazel and devastating.
“Amelia.” Her name falls out of my mouth before I can stop it.
She stares at me like I’m a ghost. Like I’m someth
