Elara
I drove straight to the airport like a woman possessed, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles went white.
I bought a ticket on the next available flight to Bogotá. The earliest departure wasn't for another three hours, but I didn't care. I'd wait all day if I had to.
Now I sat in the departure lounge, staring at the gate number on my boarding pass while travelers rushed past me with their rolling suitcases and Starbucks cups.
D.E. Dominic and Elara.
Those red letters carved into that ancient stone wall kept flashing through my mind. His handwriting spelling out my name like it was something sacred.
I thought about all the times I got it so wrong.
The cruise tickets I'd given him and Vincent. How Dominic had come storming back, demanding to k
