“Divine!” she squeals, rounding the desk and barreling into my arms. The breath rushes out of me on impact. Her hands loop around my neck. I let my palms settle on her waist, squeezing her sides, inhaling the soft burnt-sugar perfume. The hints of rosemary—rosemary—in her hair. The soft strands that fall over my nose. She bounces in my arms before pulling away. I reluctantly let go, watching with a wide grin as she circles back to look at the guest book entry again. She’s beautiful like this—thrilled and entirely overwhelmed. I don’t know what lies she tells herself; there’s no way she could
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