His Three-Day Girlfriend novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Gala, Part One

The clinic's server was wiped on Sunday night, exactly as Dane had screamed that it would be.

By Saturday, I still had one stolen page, two crash reports, three recordings and a tablet full of mornings.

I also had a seat at the Crocker Clinic gala.

The woman in the sensible raincoat from Dane's showroom turned out to sit on the clinic's donor board.

She had messaged Bridget four times since Sunday, and the fourth message was a ticket.

"I wrote a check to that fountain for nine years," she'd said. "I'd like to watch them explain it."

The ballroom was gold and white, with a chandelier the size of a car.

Three hundred donors in black tie drifted between round tables, holding champagne.

I wore a black dress of Bridget's that was too long, pinned at the hip.

Elliot wore a tuxedo and a face, and I held his arm.

We had agreed the arm was mine to take.

His phone buzzed against his chest as we went up the steps.

He looked at it, pocketed it without a word, and I thought it was Bridget.

"Everything good?" I asked.

"Everything's good."

He smiled when he said it, which is how I learned that he could.

Inside, a quartet played, and every waiter had a tray.

On the stage at the far end of the room stood a banner reading *Fourteen Years of Healing*, over a podium with a spotlight on it.

Colin's father stepped up to the podium, and the room fell silent for him.

He looked exactly as he had in the exam room, silver at the temples and kind in the face.

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