(Rebecca's POV)
I excuse myself to find the restroom. The hallway is quieter, the noise from the main hall thinning to a murmur behind the heavy doors. I check my face in the mirror. The dress is fine. The hair is fine. The woman looking back at me is someone I'm still getting used to — not the one who ironed shirts and cleaned humidifiers, not yet the one Eric sees when he says there she is.
Someone in between.
I head back toward the main hall. The doors are propped open. I see Eric near the bar, a glass in his hand, talking to someone.
A purple dress. Straight hair. Posture I'd recognize anywhere.
My feet stop.
What is Hannah doing here?
She's standing in front of Eric in a purple dress — the same purple from Jack's painting, her posture angled inward, her face arranged in the exp
