I had been able to pretend, for all of these years, that she hadn’t grown up, that she was still out there somewhere, that maybe when I’d gotten my shit together, that I could find her.
But this woman bears only a slight resemblance to the girl I remember.
My Hallie.
She doesn’t belong to you, I remind myself. And the fault for that was entirely mine.
The woman in the red suit is talking again and she and
Hallie
are standing and shaking hands with various
people around the table
.
“
Now that the preliminary is signed, we’ll work on the full contract. Chris generally rules over these things with an iron fist, so we’ll probably have to go another couple of rounds. But the deal’s done. Finito,” Jeff says to the woman in the red suit,
looking joyful
.
“We’re very happy to hear that,” the woman says, turning to me.
“Mr. Jensen.” She shakes my hand briskly. “A pleasure.”
Hallie
’s standing next to her, hands at her sides.
“Mrs. Ellison.”
“Mr. Jensen.”
I reach for her and she hesitates for a moment
before offering me
her hand.
My fingers brush against hers, and it’s
l
ightning. Still. After all of these years. I glance at her face to see whether
she feels it
but she’s already out the door.
Jesus goddamn motherfucking Christ.
About the Author
Lauren Abrams
lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her husband and a small menagerie of four-legged children
. She
spends most of her days trying to convince her high sc
hool students that reading is fun, although she’s still not sure quite what to say about
The Scarlet Letter
.
This is her first novel, although she’s planning on writing many more.