Caroline

My hands are shaking as I curl several pieces of hair around the shaft of my curling wand. I’ve been up since six a.m., agonizing over what I should wear to church with Nash and his family. A part of me knows what I wear doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m there, but there’s another part of me that desperately wants to make a good impression. To show his parents how I am outside of work, away from where I need to be professional.

Now that ...