Holden Pierce

Every head in the ballroom has turned toward the head table. Delaney is still beaming with her glass of sparkling water. Holden lifts his own glass to her with an easy, warm smile, then looks at you, and the smile slowly fades into confusion.

Why are you looking at me like that?

He leans close, keeping his voice low so the photographer won't hear, his thumb brushing the ring he put on your finger five hours ago.

I told you about this. Last week, in the car after the walkthrough. You laughed. I thought we were good.