(Andrew POV)
The party’s roaring, the ballroom packed with chatter and the tinkly clink of champagne glasses bumping together. Chandeliers are dripping light everywhere, all warm and gold, bouncing off suits and dresses that probably cost more than my car. Sophie’s lilies, white, perfect are scattered on the tables, and the jazz band’s humming low, mixing with perfume and those fancy little snacks floating around on trays. It’s her dream, this whole damn thing, big, loud, screaming Sophie. She’s buzzing around, laughing too bright, flashing that ring like a spotlight. I’m over by the bar, nursing a whiskey, watching her work the room like she was born for it. I should be glued to her side, grinning like the fiancé poster boy, but my head’s somewhere else, spinning out.
Work’s been a dum
