Chapter 1 - The Word That Stopped the Music
The chandeliers were too bright to cry under. That was the first thing I thought when I saw his hand settle. Not on my back, where it had been all through cocktails while the foundation president talked about giving, but low around her waist, possessive in a way he'd never been with me in public. The blonde in the backless red dress leaned into him like she'd done it a hundred times before, and they turned together toward the side doorway past the white roses. The marble floor threw their reflection back at me, two figures moving as one while the string quartet kept playing too loud.
I felt the pleats of my green gown shift around my legs when I took a step after them. My bracelet caught the light and my earrings swung against my neck. Around us, tables full of people in black ties and evening dresses went suddenly interested in anything but their dessert plates. A woman at Table Six stopped mid-sip. Someone's fork hit china and didn't get picked up. Daniel was at his peak in that moment, shoulders straight, chin up, the good husband turned host, walking out with another woman on his arm while I stood alone in the center of our company's gala.
I was Daniel's wife, and I had worn green so he could find me in a crowd.
The air smelled like lilies and melted candle wax and his cologne still hanging where he'd stood beside me. I watched the back of his tuxedo jacket move farther away, the white of his shirt collar stark under the lights, her long blonde hair brushing his shoulder with every step. I tracked them past the edge of the dance floor, past the photographer who lowered his camera, all the way to the dark line of the doorway where the hallway light spilled out. My throat closed. My hands wouldn't lift from my sides. I could hear my own breath coming short and thin.
He reached the threshold and paused. She paused with him. Both of them turned and looked back at me across the full length of that staring room. His face gave nothing I could use later, no apology, no panic. Her mouth moved into something that wasn't kindness. The quartet sawed on. Ice melted in a glass somewhere behind me. I felt tears heat the corners of my eyes and fought to keep them from falling because I knew every table would remember if they did.
Daniel?
That was all I got out. It came out trembling and smaller than I wanted it to, barely louder than the music. I hated how thin it sounded against the marble and crystal.
They didn't answer. They finished the look and kept going. He guided her through the doorway with that hand still on her, and the door started to swing shut behind them. My vision blurred. I dropped my gaze to the floor because I couldn't watch the door close and couldn't stand the eyes on me either. The green fabric swam in my vision. I breathed in through my nose and tried to hold it together, shoulders shaking once before I locked them still. The ballroom tilted and righted.
May you like
Then a movement cut in from my left. A man's dress shoe stepped into the edge of my downcast view, and an open hand entered the frame, steady, palm up, waiting at waist height. I didn't look at his face yet. I only stared at that hand while the quartet faded low and the room held its breath around us.
May I have this dance?
