The sun in the outdoor shots were great and you looked amazing.” I felt myself blush when he said that. “So has he found those pictures yet?�... “Nope. Not yet. I can’t get over it. I put them in the drawer with my journal, and he hasn’t touched them. I’ve been keeping an eye out.” “Do you think maybe he did find them and is keeping quiet on it?” “No. Not Gregg. He couldn’t do that.” The last person I wanted to think about, much less talk. He'd spent his early childhood moving around from place to place. His real father had left them when Justin was about 2. He was a jeweller who followed the country fairs in an old bus selling his wares. Justin thought it an idyllic life, always travelling, parking the old Leyland wherever there was a stream for water.His dad had turned up one day, unannounced. He rode in on an old BSA motorcycle, meticulously restored. His dad had fussed over him, took him for outings, showed him the bush.. More

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