That evening, Rowan had drifted to the far corner of the hall, standing quietly with a glass of wine twirling between his fingers. He remained distant from the murmurs and gossip swirling through the room, unnoticed, untouched by the noise.
He was waiting for Cathie, when suddenly a footsteps approached.
“Hello.” A voice came lightly from behind him. “Do you think we could talk?”
Before he could fully turn, someone tapped lightly on his shoulder. Rowan glanced over, momentarily surprised. He hadn’t expected to hear that voice again after the chaos earlier in the evening.
Julia—Cathie’s friend.
She stood there elegantly dressed, exuding an unmistakable composure. There was no confusing her. He recalled how Cathie had called her name and embraced her earlier, as if Julia were a steady a
