The lawn behind the Vantage Grand was the kind of space that existed in expensive buildings for the specific purpose of providing somewhere to go when inside became too much. Hedged on three sides, lit by discreet ground lighting that illuminated the path without flooding the space, a stone bench running along the far edge overlooking a small ornamental garden. The sound of the event reached them here—muffled, transformed by walls and distance into something that sounded almost like music rather than machinery.
Liam sat down.
Rebecca sat beside him—not close enough to be pointed about it, not far enough to pretend the proximity didn't have a history. She set her small clutch on the bench between them and looked at the garden with the specific quality of someone who had been waiting to be somewhere quieter and had finally arrived.
Behind the arrangement of ornamental flowers nearest the building's back entrance, Ricky settled into position.
