Her Reluctant Wife: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance

of her life. Like bits of her were being torn out, chunks of who

she was, and she didn’t know how she’d ever replace them.

Was a person even if a person if they were full of gaping

holes?

Coralyn found stacks of leggings and athletic pants folded

up on the far side of the closet. There were tanks too, and she

chose a set of black on black. She finished it up with a soft

pink sweater, which was the first thing she saw hanging on the

rack when she turned around. It was fuzzy, probably cashmere.

It slid over her skin like the embrace she’d run away from

downstairs.

Whoever that woman was who had looked at her, a soft

storm of compassion brewing in her eyes, a need to comfort

and soothe, it wasn’t the woman who had basically laughed in

her face in her office when she’d made her plea about her

dying father.

Coralyn planned on exiting the house as fast as she could.

Giana thwarted her plans. She was standing by the front door,

a purple lunch bag and a stainless steel to-go mug in one hand,

a set of keys in the other. “I made you sandwiches. There’s

fruit in there too. Protein bars. Coffee in the mug.” She jangled

the keys. “Take the black sedan. I went into the garage earlier

and sorted out the cars and keys. I had to do a test of all the

buttons to figure things out, but never mind. That’s a lot of

crap you don’t need to hear about right now.”

“I can’t take your car.”

Giana’s lips twitched. “It’s the least sporty of all of them.

It’s an automatic. It’s got winter tires on. I checked everything

out this afternoon. I was planning on giving it to you. Your car

is on its last legs. We’ll find somewhere to donate it. Maybe