Cath didn’t feel like a mistake to him. She felt like a beginning. A clean canvas, ready to be painted. A gorgeous new idea.

“How many times did you come last night?” he asked in a low voice. Three. “I’m n…”

“I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.” “Don’t reform. I like you ba…”

“All of it felt like stolen time, an end rather than a beginning. But he didn’t …”

“It’s different for you,” she said. “You’re a man.” “I was beginning to fear you…”