wearing white.
My company had expanded, and we were holding a launch dinner for a new hospitality division.
The hotel manager handed me a microphone and quietly asked whether I was comfortable being back in that room.
I looked across the long tables.
For a moment, I remembered the silver tray Lorraine had placed in my hands.
I remembered Daniel’s palm against my face.
But most clearly, I remembered the sound of my own voice saying no.
Clear.
Steady.
Final.
“I’m more than all right,” I told him.
That evening,
