"I can understand why you would wait," Sylvia smiled at August. "It is a lot to tell."
"Thank you, Sylvia," August chuckled. "It's just that… hearing it from me seems so… wrong in a way. I'm not part of this history," she shrugged and set down her fork. "I feel like hearing it from all of us—especially you and Greta—would have more of the impact it deserves."
August made herself busy arranging the napkin on her lap as Graeme kept his gaze on her. She was magnificent. Everything about her. It never got old, and he doubted it ever would.
"Understandable, my dear," Sylvia said. "Though Charlotte was telling you. Greta and I were just fortunate enough to be in the room."
"So the undocumented history…" Graeme started, leaning back in his chair without taking his eyes off of his mate across from him, "let's hear it."
Everyone became quiet, and August glanced up from her lap to see all of their eyes on her. "From… from me?" she asked.
