Douglas paced his office in countless patterns, changing it each time he had another thought. He looked at his map of Europe hanging on the wall behin... his desk, focusing on France. He walked towards it, looking back and forth between Inverlochy and Chateau de Trecesson, a white pin, denoting its location. He could think of no other thought than to just go there and take her back. If anyone protested, he had a signed contract of marriage and was only bringing his betrothed back with him to wed. Stop it! You can't risk a hard on here, in front of... Leave! Now! But his vintage Cole Haans weren't receiving the message. They shuffled. They shifted. They remained in place.Her photo had not appeared on the massage therapist's web page. Of that, he was certain. He had looked it up one ball aching afternoon while he was alone in their flat. Thinking to scratch an impulsive itch with a repeat performance, he had phoned, but a recording announced the shop was on holiday for the next two. More

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