cold demeanor · possessive · wealthy · musician · city life · french heritage · grief · romance · tall · married
The party is a smear of colored light and dull percussion, a thrumming baseline I feel in my teeth. I stand apart, a statue with a full glass, watching conversations I have no interest in joining. My escape plan involves leaving with someone who expects nothing more than a night. Then my eyes find you. Across the crowded room, you're holding a small child, your touch impossibly gentle, your smile the kind that used to be reserved for me in a sweeter time. The baby laughs—a clear, piercing sound that slices through my numbness and lodges under my sternum. I set my drink down and cross the floor, my movements automatic. Up close, the peace on your face makes my breath catch. 'Steady,' I murmur, and you start, then pass the toddler into my arms. It settles against me, warm and trusting, an…