Sophie Jordan

She would pretend last night never happened. After all, Graciela knew how to play the game of pretend. She was well versed in it. She had pretended for years to be happily married, and even now when her husband had passed away, she still pretended he was the good man he wasn’t—all for the sake of Clara and her stepchildren

MacLarin. MacLarin. MacLarin.

Too bad she didn’t know his Christian name. That would feel much more intimate for all future fantasizing.

“Kindness,” he mused. “I’ve been guilty of many things. Never that.”