Chapter 1 - The Ballroom Went Quiet Around Me
The chandeliers threw too much light. That was the first thing I couldn't stand. Every crystal caught the heat and dropped it back on the marble floor, on the columns, on the couples turning slow in the middle of the room. The band kept playing something low and polished. I stood off to the side with my hand on my belly and felt the baby press back against my palm, and for a second the whole crowded room narrowed to that small push.
Mason was dancing. I didn't have to look directly to know it. I could see him in the edge of my vision, his hand settled at another woman's back, his head tipped down while he listened. He was smiling in that easy gala way he had. At his peak, charming a table without even trying, while I stood in my light gown with tears I couldn't blink away fast enough.
My name is Emily. I was thirty-two and seven months pregnant that night.
The air in the ballroom was warm and too sweet, perfume and champagne and overheated flowers. I tried to breathe through it. My off-the-shoulder gown pulled a little across my shoulders when I inhaled. My diamond ring caught the chandelier light when I lifted my hand to my chest. I stared at the glint and then at my fingers curled against my sternum, moment by moment — the shake in my thumb, the cold metal, the way my breath came shallow and then stopped.
She came up beside me so quietly I didn't hear her heels. Short gray hair, that shimmering light dress moving around her knees. She looked from my face to my hand on my belly and back again, and her mouth tightened.
"If I ever become someone you don't recognize, leave me," I said. My voice came out tense and quiet. I hadn't meant to say it out loud.
She stepped closer. "Emily, you're frightening me."
I kept watching the dance floor. Mason turned with the music, and the woman laughed at something he said. I felt my eyes move slow across them, and I breathed in through my nose so I wouldn't cry harder in front of everyone.
"Please, let me get Mason," she said. She looked down for a second, sorrowful, and then held her open hand out toward me like she could steady me if I'd just take it.
I didn't take it. That pause stretched between us, the band playing on, glasses clinking somewhere behind us. I put my other hand lower on my belly and felt the baby shift again, restless under the lights and noise.
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"Sometimes staying only teaches them that you always will," I said. I was calm. My heart was breaking so loud I thought she must hear it. "Tell him he was dancing."
Her hand stayed in the air. She glanced over her shoulder toward the floor where Mason was, then back at me, waiting for me to change my mind.
