Page 263 of The Sinner: James

Lights glimmer in the valley as the town sparkles under the falling snow.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, taking in the view before looking at the neighbors’ homes.

Strings of Christmas lights dangle from the trees and rooftops, casting a glow over the foggy windows.

“I almost forgot how beautiful it was,” I say nostalgically.

“Yeah, I know... It’s beautiful now, but wait to see it in the summer,” she says before sipping hot chocolate. “I miss those times,” she murmurs, melancholy threading through her voice.

We sit in silence for a few good moments, the memories of past summers coming back to me.

The warm light, lush meadows, and sparkling blue sky. The lazy afternoons.

“Why did we have to leave?” she asks ruefully.

I shift my gaze to her, yet she keeps her eyes on the view.

My stare goes blank as I mull over an answer.

“It was our time,” I murmur. “I guess we had to. Everybody leaves at some point or another.”

She turns her eyes to me.

“Sometimes, I wish I could turn back time,” she says. “Be where we were two years ago and not give a damn about anything. Just stroll down those cobblestone streets downtown and eat ice cream like we used to.”

I smile.

“We can still eat ice cream. Maybe not now,” I say, smiling.

She shakes her head, not grinning in the slightest.

“Yeah, we could, but it’s not the same… Nothing is the same.”

She looks away for a moment, and I do that, too, training my gaze on the Christmas lights pulsing in the distance.

“If you could change anything, what would it be?” she asks.

“I would not want to meet James Sexton,” I say quietly in a mournful voice.

She flicks her eyes to me, grappling with surprise.

* * *

RAIN

“I think this one looks better,”I say as Eve steps out of the purple dress and tries on one of my evening gowns.

The black outfit is made of a fine jersey fabric that has a cool feel to the touch and falls perfectly over her toned body.

The style consisting of some nice cleavage, slim fit, long sleeves, and a long back zipper flatters her.

She twirls in front of the mirror as we both examine it.

“It looks nice,” I say, raising my eyes to her.

She studies her reflection, musing.

“Is this how I look?”

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