I refuse to look at the ring. Refuse to see what the band is made of, if it's a diamond, which cut. No. That would make it too real.
I'm looking out the window of his Range Rover, watching trees and buildings pass by as we leave the city of Silver Falls, and he drives onto the highway.
He gave me his suit jacket to leave the station. It smells of him and there's only one way to describe it. Elegant. That's how
he smells. Like a man in a well-pressed suit who holds the door for you, cherishes his loved ones, works hard to spoil his wife. Like someone who hugs you when you cry and kills the demons that haunt you.
Like a lie.
