My Childhood Sweetheart Asked Me to Sign a Special Folder in Room Four Hundred Seven

in the car yesterday.”

Ben’s brow furrowed, a tiny muscle twitching near his temple.

“Use mine,” he said, reaching toward his own gown pocket.

“No, the bank will reject it if it looks like we used two different pens,” I said, sliding the slip toward the edge of the table. “They are very strict about the trust accounts, isn’t that so?”