“I know he caught your eye at dinner. I know he seems to be everything you want.” My heart thumps hard in my chest. “He’s not everything I—” “Yes,” Corrick says. “He is. I know he is.” “How?” I whisper. “How do you know that?” “Because he’s the kind of man Weston Lark would be, if he were real.” “He’s not—” My chest is tight, and I have to take a breath. “He’s not Weston Lark.” “I’m not either, Tessa.”
