“I don’t need you anymore.” Of course not. Because, like he’d said, she was just playing a role. Including, apparently, her role in his arms. Had he been playing a role also? Please don’t stop kissing me. She pressed her hand to her mouth, swallowing back the ache in her throat. She closed her eyes. “Never, Rosie,” he’d said. Never. More lies. She didn’t know where they started and stopped with him. At least he’d arranged her travel home. First a train to Paris then a ship across the Atlantic to New York. She’d debated stopping in to see her mother and Finn, but why? So her mother could see the destruction on her face? Thirty-six hours and four stops on the TWA DC-2 flight, thankfully in her own sleeper berth, and in an hour she’d land on California soil, the last year a memory. She might never forget looking out the train window from the station in Verdun and seeing Rolfe on the platform. He’d arrived conveniently after the train boarded, electing to allow Hale and Sophie to accompany her to the train.
