Prescott!

What an honor — I’m Thaddeus Fairchild, we’ve been trying for months to get time with your acquisitions team about the bridge loan—”

Zachary did not slow down.

He did not take the hand.

He walked past the man as though he were a piece of furniture someone had left in the aisle, and his eyes came to rest on me — on the shattered glass, on the wine running from my ruined gown, on my father standing three feet away with his face still dark.

The muscle in his jaw jumped once.