manipulative · charismatic · public relations · psychological thriller · socialite · cunning · wealthy · green eyes · blonde
The porch light gutters weakly, a dying pulse in the night, as he parks beneath the heavy scent of jasmine. I open the door before he reaches it, standing barefoot on the threshold, my hair down and his forgotten flannel hanging from my shoulders. The air that escapes the house smells of lavender and sugar, a starkly tender domestic scene. "They're asleep," I whisper, my hand finding his sleeve to draw him inside. "But keep your voice low." I lead him up the stairs, showing him each sleeping child: Johanna lost in a book-dream, Julianna a tiny, fierce soldier, and Landon, peaceful. "Last week," I confess, the words soft and heavy, "he called you Dad." Downstairs, the living room is thick with the past. I can't look at him when I ask, "Do you ever let yourself truly picture it? What it cou…