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She’d never been because there had never been money, and once there was money there wasn’t time. It was the catch-22 of her life,
“The greatest mystery writer the world has ever known disappeared out of a locked room two days before Christmas. Of course it’s a test!”
She knew an Ethan—one who was easy calm and charming smiles, the human equivalent of sweet tea on a hot day, cool and just a touch too saccharine. The man beside her now was coffee, black.
She was letting her imagination get the better of her, but her imagination had also paid the bills for the better part of a decade, so her imagination, frankly, deserved the benefit of the doubt.
It was like a reverse Clark Kent. He’d put on his glasses and revealed his superpower, and Maggie couldn’t help but like him just a little.
