Camilla

The next day, of course I was still thinking about Michael. Who wouldn't be?

His tragic past, his mysterious present–my dad had called him a "high-level player." I wondered what that meant exactly. How high-level was he? What was his role in the family?

Then I felt guilty. I was lusting after a guy who'd recently been widowed. And tragically, at that. I probably shouldn't even be thinking about him that way. I should leave him alone to ...