Florence had known all along that there was no avoiding this meeting.
What she had imagined, though, was something gentler. Timothy may catch her at the exit once the ballet ended. Or the two of them could meet, trade a quick nod, and call it a greeting.
Every scenario had run through her head ahead of time.
The one possibility she had never accounted for was that Timothy would lose his composure the instant he saw her, seize her hand, and refuse to let go, and even force her down into the seat at his side.
The theater had sunk into total darkness, and an aching, tender duet played out on the stage in front of her. Timothy occupied the seat to her right, and his presence dominated everything else in the room.
His hand trembled faintly where it gripped hers, and that small tremor felt
