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Spain.
Mexico.
Cancún.
Miami.
Hotels.
Glass towers.
Money.
Power.
And him.
Older now.
Gray at the temples.
Sharp jaw.
Dark eyes.
Tall.
Even in photos, you can tell.
Six-three.
Maybe more.
My stomach twists.
Because I see it.
In the structure.
In the eyes.
In something I can’t explain.
Me.
My pulse spikes.
Everything inside me?—
the anger
the confusion
the loneliness
Tristan
Isa
