Because I’ve been doing this my whole life: performing okay-ness when I’m bleeding inside.
Caleb turns slightly toward me after the donor leaves.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, voice low, gentle. Not flirtation. Rescue.
I almost say yes.
Not because I want to dance with Caleb.
Because I need to stop sitting here like a discarded toy.
But before I can answer, a presence slots into the space beside me.
“Lucy,” Graham says, smiling like the night has been waiting for him.
I look once, just once, toward the dance floor.
Julian is still dancing with another woman in his arms.
Fine.
If Julian North can treat me like a prop, then I can stop acting like this is anything I want to be a part of.
I stand.
Graham offers his hand, and I take it.
He leads me out mid-song like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like, he’s not stealing a narrative right in front of everyone.
The dance is smooth. Easy. He holds me with the confidence of a man who thinks he can have whatever he wants.
And the worst part is: being paid attention to feels good.
I hate that. I hate myself for it.
When the song ends, Graham doesn’t let go immediately. He pulls me into him, and it doesn't make me uncomfortable; it feels almost natural.
“Another?” he asks.
I hesitate, then I glance up.
Julian is off the dance floor now. He’s standing with his parents, and beside them is a tall, elegant woman who seems to belong there.
Julian’s face is blank. Controlled. But he’s there, with them.
And I’m not.
“That would be lovely,” I say quietly.
During the next song, Graham leans in.
“I wanted to talk to you aboutwork,” he says.
I blink. “Work?”
“My foundations,” he explains. “I need someone to work with me directly. Someone I can trust. Someone who cares about the actual causes. Someone who can handle more than just events, the community, the logistics...”
His eyes hold mine. “Someone like you.”
