Lincoln
Wendy had perfected the art of loving Lincoln from a distance. Secret admirer or lover, whatever it was.
For three years, she had watched him at the coffee shop where they’d met during a rainstorm, memorized the way he laughed at her jokes, and treasured every text message he sent.
She kept these feelings locked away like precious jewels in a vault, never daring to speak them aloud.
Soon, Lincoln became her best friend, and she had convinced herself that this proximity was enough, that friendship was better than nothing at all.
“Earth to Wendy!” Catherine’s voice cut through her reverie as they browsed through racks of summer dresses at the boutique.
“You’ve been staring at that floral print for five minutes. Do you like it or are you thinking of something else?”
Wendy bl
