Second Chance
Jessa stood in front of her desk, scanning its surface for anything suspicious, evidence he’d been there. Of course he had. They were in a daily war: Who could rearrange something miniscule without being caught? The day before she’d removed the staples from his stapler. It felt delightfully mischievous. Once he’d inserted a single yellow…
A Love of My Own
“The clouds parted over her,” he’d tell in his southern gentleman’s drawl. “Nothing could be clearer, as she was the one I was meant to marry.” This story was like a banner over my childhood—my father’s insistence on love at first sight and destinies we hardly choose for ourselves. I suppose I expected my own…
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