Catherine did understand what it would look like…
But this was her son… Her son.
She ignored Dorian and stared at Fitzgerald. Despite herself, Catherine almost smiled. Almost. "No, thank you."
"It also prevents the cake from going to waste," Fitzgerald insisted.
She looked at the immaculate white frosting. Dorian was still staring. She took a step back. "That sounds like your problem."
"It is becoming yours."
She let out a weary sigh and turned. "I really don't have the strength for you tonight."
His expression softened almost imperceptibly. "I know."
Catherine paused.
Just those two words from him… Nothing more.
Yet somehow... They carried an understanding that no one else in the ballroom seemed capable of offering.
Just hearing his voice, even now, eased something inside her. It reminded her, painfully, of another lifetime, when a single babble from her laughing child had been enough to chase every exhaustion from her heart.
