I loved Trent when he was spelling, his fair hair staticky and his green eyes glinting with discovering how much power he could wield. I loved Trent when he was putting unicorn Band-Aids on scrapes and kissing little-girl tears into giggles. I loved Trent in the boardroom, his icy control striking doubt in those facing him as he outwitted them with lifelong relationships and cunning foresight. But I think I loved him best when he was in the kitchen, content and happy as he was free to be . . . what he wanted to be.
