Next he goes to the bar and pours himself something much stronger. That should stop the shaking. Then out to the balcony for some air.
She emerges from the bedroom and walks to the sitting area. He is not there, but on the table sits a rose in a plain vase. She stops to admire it and smiles. It is perfect. She never was one for gushing over dozens of roses. What a waste. She always would end up fretting over the lot until she found the perfect one. And that was the one she focused on. He had saved her the work. She sees the glass of wine, picks it up, and takes a sip.
She sees a light breeze blow the curtain covering the open doorway to the balcony. She knows instantly that is where he is. No doubt trying to calm his boyish nerves with a stiff drink and some air.
Without realizing it, h
