I was home now, safe, and I could stop pretending I had it all together.“God, Emma, what happened?” James asked, his voice full of concern.“Ever...thing,” I cried.Upon seeing me and the disaster I had made of our kitchen, his amusement had turned into worry and he rushed to wrap his arms around me. He gave me a tight, reassuring squeeze and I traded my frustration for an intense need for comforting from the man I loved the most. I sagged in my husband’s firm embrace, and James let me break down. Under instruction, I was dressed casually in T-shirt and sweats. The hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, talons and toenails all shouted “Brandi”. Otherwise, I wore no makeup or prosthetics, which felt really weird. They had been deliberately evasive of my inquiries, saying only I wouldn’t be sorry we made the trip.The high stone walls at the end of a private access road, far removed from the nearest neighbor, gave it away. We parked outside the main building, which resembled a huge French chateau, and. More

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