Chapter 3 - White Flowers and Low Voices
I didn't take his hand to dance. I took it because my knees were going to give out if I didn't hold onto something, and his was the only thing being offered without pity attached to it.
He didn't pull me toward the floor. He read it right away and steered me sideways, toward the edge tables where the white arrangements were too tall and the candles had burned too low. The music kept playing. Nobody followed us. That was the worst part, how fast the room decided to look somewhere else.
We sat. I did, anyway. My pleated skirt caught on the chair leg and I had to smooth it twice before my hands would stop shaking. The marble under us reflected the chandelier light in long white lines, and I stared at it because it was easier than looking at the doorway Daniel had just walked through.
"I'm Nathan," he said. His voice was lower now than it had been when he'd asked. "I helped set up the donor auction tonight. Foundation side."
I nodded. That explained the tuxedo that didn't quite fit like Daniel's did. His bow tie was a little crooked. He hadn't come to be seen.
"Thank you," I said. My throat felt raw. "You didn't have to—"
"You looked like you needed an exit," he said. He didn't sit too close. He left a full chair between us, angled his body just enough that his shoulder blocked the nearest table's view of me. A small kindness. Deliberate.
A server passed with champagne. I shook my head before he could even ask. Nathan waved him off, too.
For a minute we just listened to the clinking and the low talk. My earring brushed my neck when I breathed. I reached up and steadied it with my fingers, the crystal cold against my skin. My bracelet clicked against the table edge.
"I don't want to overstep," Nathan said. He kept his eyes on the flowers, not on me. White roses, white hydrangeas. The petals were starting to brown at the edges from the heat of the room. "But I was near the entrance earlier. During check-in."
I looked up then.
He hesitated. "I saw him come in."
Something in my stomach dropped, slow and heavy.
"Daniel?" I said.
He nodded once. "With her. The woman in red."
I waited for him to soften it. He didn't.
"What time was that?" I asked. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. The practical part of my brain had kicked on, the part that made lists and checked times.
"Eight-fifteen, maybe. They didn't use the main line. Side door by the lobby. She fixed his bow tie before they walked in."
I stared at the white flowers. I could picture it too clearly. Daniel hated having his bow tie touched. He always said he'd do it himself in the car mirror. Except tonight someone else had done it, and he'd let her.
"They came together," I said. Not a question.
"Yeah," Nathan said quietly. "I'm sorry."
I thought about the way Daniel had looked back at the doorway. How he'd paused. How she'd turned too, and smiled. At the time I'd told myself it was shock, embarrassment. That he'd been caught in something stupid and impulsive and couldn't figure out how to undo it in front of everyone.
This was different. This was eight-fifteen. This was a side door. This was almost two hours before he'd walked out with his arm around her while I stood in my green gown in the middle of the floor and said his name out loud like he couldn't hear me.
It wasn't impulse. It had a start time.
My hands went still in my lap. The shaking stopped, replaced by something colder.
"Did they talk to anyone?" I asked. "When they came in?"
Nathan frowned, thinking. "A man took their coats. They didn't check anything else. Just walked straight to the sponsor table. Like they knew where they were going."
I nodded. My coat was still at the coat check. So was Daniel's. At least, it should have been. His black overcoat, my wrap. We'd driven in together. Or I thought we had. Now I wasn't sure when he'd left the house, when he'd—
I stood up. Too fast. The chair scraped the marble and a woman at the next table glanced over.
"I need to check something," I said.
Nathan stood too, but didn't crowd me. "The lobby?"
"Coat check," I said. "And then the parking lot." I picked up my small clutch from the table. My fingers left damp marks on the satin. "If his coat's gone, then he—"
I didn't finish. I didn't have to.
Nathan nodded. "You want company? I can wait by the hall. No one will—"
"No," I said, then softened it. "Thank you. But I need to see it myself."
He accepted that without arguing, which I was grateful for. Most men would have tried to fix it, walk me there, talk to the attendant for me.
He just said, "I'm at table nine if you need anything. Auction ends at ten."
"Nathan," I repeated, to make sure I'd remember it. The first solid thing from this night.
May you like
He gave me a short nod. "Go on. Side hallway's quieter."
I smoothed my gown one last time. The pleats had wrinkled where I'd been sitting. I walked toward the lobby with the chandelier light on my back, listening to my heels on the marble, trying to hold onto that one fact: eight-fifteen, side door, together.
