I wondered when she would realize just how much Whitney was a part of her too. It wasn’t the wig that made her Whitney West. Frankly, that was the least important part. It was all in her mind. Annie was this sweet, caring woman who liked to bake because it brought people together. She was warm and welcoming. Whitney was a powerhouse. She was a confident force of nature who could part oceans with a single glance. Annie’s hand slid onto my thigh. “I need to get some words in,” she said softly. We were sitting a respectable distance apart, but I would have given to tuck her into my side as we
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