Chapter 88

• “You play?” Annabelle asks, nodding her head toward the guitar.
• “For myself.” His answer mixed with the unexpected softness in his voice has her turning to look at him. He shrugs, “It’s what I do to help me think…to work through stuff in my head.” As he talks, she steps further into the office and runs her fingers across bookshelves, looking at the scattered pictures of his family. “I don’t play for others.”
• Annabelle nods her head in response, understanding the need to have something to help when her head is troubled. She continues perusing the bookshelves, and one photo causes her to do a double take. A younger Nicholas looks exhausted yet jubilant in his race suit standing in front of his car, arms raised in victory, smile wide with pure accomplishment, and confetti raining down. The only distraction in the picture is the woman wrapped around his torso. She stares up at him, love, adoration, and reverence plastered blatantly on her face. Annabelle would know her face anywhere.