“Careful.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Ethan said, “She’s new.”
The clasp finally closed.
Vanessa admired herself in the mirror.
My necklace rested against her throat.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Ethan stepped behind her.
“Like the future Mrs. Carter.”
My breath stopped.
Vanessa beamed.
Then Ethan lifted his glass toward the mirror.
“To tomorrow.”
“To tomorrow,” Vanessa said.
I lowered my eyes before they could see the murder of hope in them.
When I left the room, I did not run.
I walked.
