THE LITTLE GIRL ASKED TO SIT WITH A STRANGER—BUT HER MOTHER NEVER EXPECTED THE MAFIA BOSS TO RECOGNIZE HER FACE

time was supposed to do.

For one impossible moment, Damen was not forty inches from a child’s half-finished dinner.

He was twenty-nine again.

In a coffee shop near Tufts.

Watching a girl with a paperback open between them laugh at something he had said while trying to pretend she had not.

“Clara,” he said.

The name left him lower than his usual voice.

Quieter.continue reading …