Seraphina's Point Of View
The champagne glass struck the table with a harsh clink… not the delicate chime of crystal meeting wood, but a heavy, graceless thud, as though I'd released it from too great a height. The fine crystal trembled precariously, and the last drops of golden liquid swirled at the bottom, mocking me with their lazy circles.
I refused to look at it. My fingers had already found the water glass, its condensation slick and blessedly cold against my overheated skin.
Rose continued talking, her voice a steady drone weaving through something about Mason and vineyards. I nodded mechanically, my smile fixed in place like a mask, while my thoughts drifted elsewhere, anywhere but here.
