involvement in their lives was no longer required.
And their involvement in his. He needn’t feel anything toward either one of them any longer.
From the corner of his eye, movement caught his attention. He held his breath. Great. Phoebe was at her window. There was more fluttering movement, and he could see one shoulder and an arm. He guessed she’d settled on the sill like he had, with her back against the side of the window opening.
Then, as he watched, a leg emerged from the window, and her small bare foot braced against the gently pitched second-story roof. The hem of a long pink dress fluttered about her calf.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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