it immediately. I look at the pile of correspondence I need to sort for Jack and tackle it as I try to push Christian out of my mind once more.
That night in bed, I toss and turn, trying to sleep. It is the first time in a while I havenâÂÂt cried myself to sleep.
In my mindâÂÂs eye, I visualize ChristianâÂÂs face the last time I saw him as I left his apartment. His tortured expression haunts me. I remember he didnâÂÂt want me to go, which was odd. Why would I stay when things had reached such an impasse? We were each skirting around our own issuesâÂÂmy fear of punishment, his fear of . . . what? Love?