Too Much LoveChapter 13
The disorientation that came with waking up in an unfamiliar bed was not unfamiliar to Connie Carlyle. In the twilight of half-sleep with a sweet, postcoital langour slowing her thoughts, she imagined she was back in the Loft and the weight rising from the bed was Colin. Then, twenty years of memory settled in around her thoughts like rubble after an earthquake. Colin was long dead and, while Connie was back in the loft again, it wasn’t really the Loft. When Colin had lived here, it was...