Dave's POV
The stupid string quartet was still playing. I could hear the faint, happy notes drifting from the ballroom all the way to the private lounge. It felt like a mockery. Everything was cold, her soft skin under my white-knuckled grip, the night air slipping through the window, the champagne flute sitting forgotten on the table beside the couch behind me. But none of it was as cold as the look in Sheila’s eyes.
I’d finally done it. After six years of being her shadow, her reliable, restrained Dave, I’d grabbed her wrist and poured my guts out. My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. I could feel my breath coming in these short, ragged little puffs. And my eyes… damn it, they were wet. I blinked fast, staring at her.
And that’s when I saw it. It wasn’t surprise. It w
