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I glance down at the woman I spent a good year of my life with. There was something like love at the very start, but it quickly turned into a deep resentment. In time, I suppose I even went as far as hating her.

She doesn’t bring out the best in me the way Amber does. She is selfish, looking for one thing and one thing only. Status and financial reward.

She clings harder to my arm, knowing that out of politeness and optics, I will not push her away.

“It really is nice to see you,” she says, gazing up at me with a conniving grin. “It has been way too long.”

I smile at her as politely as humanly possible. She then brings her hand to my collar, sliding it down sensually to squeeze my tie. I can feel my eyes blazing at her, icy and angry, but she doesn’t bat an eye.

“You are looking dangerously handsome, as always,” she murmurs.

My grandfather watches her sad attempt at flirting with a wide, desperate face. I thank Morine for her compliment, then notice a flash of canary yellow speed by. My neck snaps towards it, my heart galloping in my chest.

Amber isn’t at the bar any more. She has dashed away, and I have to find her.

“It has been great talking with you both,” I say with injected chivalry. “But I am afraid I must use the restroom and do some socializing.”

I take Morine by the arm and try to force it away from me, but she digs her nails in like a bird holding its prey.

“Oh, so quick to go, Kaden.” She tuts her lips. “Can’t we have a single drink to catch up?”

My eyes narrow, and we begin to move away from Rust. I hold my arm out still, the eternal gentleman.

Once we are out of ear shot of my grandfather, I turn swiftly, peeling Morine’s arm off of mine. She looks at me with startled anger.

“Morine, I’m married, as I’m sure you know,” I say sternly. “And I love my wife deeply. I have respect for you and your father, but we are no longer in a romantic relationship. You have to respect that.”

She rubs her arm bashfully, then tries to take a step in closer to me. I take a step away, looking at her with conviction.

“Don’t,” I snap.

I use the opportunity to move away from her, hoping that puts an end to the harassment for that night. I start looking for Amber in the guise of a curious guest, going inside to chat with the chefs, the workers, even moving up and down the halls looking for a place she might have gone to be alone.

I return outside and wander around, hands in pockets, sad and desperate. I come upon the botanical garden, the iron gate sitting ajar.

I walk in, my feet rushing frantically. The plants and flowers surrounding me are immaculate, but I pay them no mind. After walking a few feet I start to hear quiet weeping, and my heart jumps into my throat.

I come upon Amber sitting on a bench, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking mournfully. I stand still for a second, admiring her but also detesting whatever may have caused this expression of grief.

She looks up suddenly when I move towards her. Her face is stained with mascara, her lovely brown skin obstructed by sadness.

“Amber, what is going on?”

I don’t expect her to confess to me tonight what is on her mind. But it would be helpful.

She shakes her hand and stands up from the bench, picking up the front of her dress to move toward me. I hold my arms out, but she tries to push past me.

“Amber, you have to tell me what is wrong,” I say, touching her shoulders gently. “I can listen, I can fix it, whatever you want.”

To my own ears, I sound pathetic. I have never said any of that to a woman and meant it. But with Amber, I don’t care. I would crawl across lava for her if it made things okay between us.

“You can’t fix it, Kaden,” she says, still crying. “I want to go home. Please, take me home.”

I know that it is going to look strange for us to leave the party so early, but I don’t have the energy to remind her about the political climate. So I nod and watch her walk out of the garden ahead of me.

I make my way through the crowd, looking for my grandfather. When I finally spot him, I let him know that she is feeling ill, and I am leaving early to take care of her.

He winks at me and clutches at his chest.

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