Done Playing His Perfect Donna
The lawyer tried to speak again, but I silenced him with a look.
Ten years as Donna still had some weight.
In the end, he said nothing. He took the file back with trembling hands, bowed once more toward the ICU, and toward me.
"…Yes, Donna."
This time, I didn't correct him.
Let the name Angelina, along with the man lying in that room, be sealed away in Chicago.
I turned and took Tristan's hand.
His palm was warm and dry, like sun-warmed cotton in the New York autumn.
"Let's go," I said.
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