We were planted on my front steps, sitting hip to hip after picking up dropped blooms from a hanging fuchsia. Her opened hands were full of petals, her eyes focused on my face.
A photo?
Oh, no.
My editor has known this about me for 15 years. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Just do it.”
Lylah lowered her camera.
Quoting me to myself sure shut me up. Within minutes, we had the photo for my book jacket and profile pic.