About the book
Two o'clock." She typed something into her computer and slid a clipboard through the window. None of them compared to the only man who ever had. Some beautiful, confident woman who knew how to talk to him, who didn't stammer and blush and invent fictional boyfriends because she was too pathetic to admit the truth. He worked it onto his right hand with a snap that echoed through the small room, leaving his left hand bare, the black wedding band still visible on his finger.