There comes an age in life when you realize that blaming and regretting are a waste of precious time. Some thrills were worth weathering the inevitable crash. And in the end, as Madame and Joy had tried to tell me all season long, a summer fling didn’t have to be a crime.
“No, Jim, I’m not sorry,” I said. “After what we’ve both been through, don’t you think the time we have, whether long or short, is something we should just make the most of?”
“I do, Clare,” he said, turning me in his arms. “I do.”
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