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Holy shit. Here it comes.

The action is about to begin.

Dad offers Mum his arm. Christopher keeps hold of me.

Bryce falls into step on my other side. Close enough that the back of his hand brushes mine.

Once.

Barely.

But on purpose.

My fucking God, it means the world.

I almost break. I almost burst into tears on the spot. But I can’t. I can’t.

I force my focus back on my surroundings.

The saleroom is smaller than I imagined.

Rows of upholstered chairs face a raised rostrum and a large screen placed up high. Reserved cards mark several seats near the front. Telephone-bidding staff sit at desks along one side, headsets ready, while cameras point towards the auctioneer for online bidders.

It’s such a bustle, I’m terrified.

Some buyers choose aisle seats, others sit behind advisers. A few remain standing at the back, catalogues under their arms, as though committing to a chair would reveal too much.

Our seats are in the fourth row.

Dad and Mum take the two nearest the centre aisle. I sit beside them, with Christopher on my other side.

Bryce sits next to him.

Too far away.

Christopher leans across me to say something to Dad about the order of the lots. I bet he wishes I was lot number 1, not 47, since he’ll be bored shitless.

I look past him to find Bryce is watching me. He gives me a smile. Simple. Fast. But it speaks volumes.

He knows how much this means to me, even if the people around me don’t.

I want to say so much. I want to scream it from the rooftops.

I love you.

I love you so much it hurts.

The screen changes.

Lot number 1.

Bryce turns away as a final stream of guests enters through the rear doors. Late arrivals slip into empty chairs beside acquaintances, or remain along the back wall.

My stomach flips at the way Bryce is searching. I can barely bring myself to follow his eyes.

But there is no Jack. I’d spot him from a mile off if he was here.

My heart sinks despite myself.