May We Never Meet Again
And then, like a spark, a memory surfaced.
The day she had entered Charlotte’s room uninvited. The book lying open on the bed. She had picked it up casually, read the first paragraph beneath the title, then scoffed.
“What kind of junk is this?” she had muttered before tossing the book aside.
Now, she turned back to Nathan, her face lighting up with practiced innocence.
“Of course I remember,” she said brightly. “Nathan, everyone is waiting.”
She glanced pointedly toward the sea of guests, then leaned closer to him, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Let’s talk tonight, when it’s just the two of us, okay?”