She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. Not only that, but he is here in London. “You were booked of course. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. ‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing.
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