Unmade By Love, Remade By Self
conference was a sp
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and quiet, competitive judgment.
as on a "business trip" in Aspen with Ryan Clark, her co
ispering and pointing at me. I' d raised her since she was a baby,
ooked nervous, called my name. "
hat' s when Madis
and, and hurled it at my head. It hit me just above my temple. A sharp, bright pain exp
gasped. The
igh and cruel, cut
an! A gold-digging loser my mom marr
trickling down my face, feeling a strange numbness spread through me. The physical pain was no
ed to the men's room to clean the
mail, a rare one from Wendy Fuller. My old college friend. The on
e was simple: "
my hands shak
told her I'm waiting for a good man to be fre
dream of a family. A good man. W
y temple, the tired eyes, the faint lines of a decade
hest hardened into a
ver. I
/0/65237/coverorgin.jpg?v=e87f4c09444237b6798a00b1df411030&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/86395/coverorgin.jpg?v=55bb4b33b13d15db79b49aea662af755&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/98470/coverorgin.jpg?v=1953bacd7d79f71d9cdbbf3fbed28349&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/71874/coverorgin.jpg?v=ec15f5262b23f31092864f9e5eb887dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/88956/coverorgin.jpg?v=35f2908bf921166e6fed8bd685e74784&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100496/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5cb6898ea82160755e6bbb1255517a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)