Chapter 12: Table Four

Millicent's POV

Four hundred white roses took three vans and a dozen people to carry into the ballroom.

I walked in behind them in a black dress of Roxy's that was too short in the sleeves.

Nobody stopped me.

The Thackeray Foundation had moved a three-hundred-person dinner to a single day's notice, and the ballroom was full anyway.

The board sat at the long table on the stage. The senator was there. The woman in green was not.

Table four was right at the front.

There was one empty chair at it, and a place card in Lawrence's handwriting.

Millicent.

I looked at it for a long moment.

"You came," he said behind me.

I turned.

He was in a black suit, and he hadn't slept. His eyes were red at the rims.

"I came to deliver flowers."

"I know."

"I'm leaving as soon as they're set."

"Sit for ten minutes first."

He lowered his voice.

"I'm going to say something up there. Some of it will hurt, and all of it is true. I only found out last night. Please don't leave until I'm done."

"What is it?"

"I can't say it quietly. I tried to think of a way, and there isn't one."

I looked at his face.

It was not the face of a man performing.

I sat down in the chair at table four.

He stood over me a second longer.

He put one hand flat on the back of my chair, and his knuckles brushed my shoulder blade through the thin dress.

I shivered. He felt it.

I kept my eyes on the roses and I kept my voice low.

"I know what you sound like when you finish," I told him.

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