She smiled again, leaned closer.
He made himself stay in it. It would have worked, too. Except he kept seeing the dance floor and caught the part the room wasn’t filming.
April’s smile was still on, but her eyes kept flicking past Killian’s shoulder like she was counting exits instead of measures.
The room leaned. Another song and the story would harden.
He pulled his phone out again.
Caleb:She’s not fine.
He sent it and kept the phone in his hand. He waited.
Any second now, one of the men who’d apparently signed up for infrastructure duty would step in. Someone would handle it, clean and competent, and he could go back to pretending this was someone else's problem.
This was the cue. The obvious one. The kind actors hit in their sleep.
And they were standing there.
He checked his phone.
Nothing.
Caleb: Anyone?
No one stepped in.
The woman from Sonoma was saying something. He looked at her.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She said something. Confused, maybe offended.
His feet were already moving.
[THE STERLING SITUATION]
[8:47 PM]
Caleb:She’s not fine.
Caleb:Anyone?
[9:01 PM]
Killian:I fucked up.
April
CALEB HART APPEARED with the confidence of someone waiting for his cue, which, April realized, he probably had been, because Caleb Hart's entire job was showing up at exactly the right moment and making it look spontaneous.
He appeared, offered his hand, and said loud enough for people to hear:
"You'll have to forgive me. I've spent fifteen years being contractually obligated to sweep in at exactly this moment."
A few heads turned. Someone laughed like it was a joke.
April stared at him. Then, because her brain had apparently unionized and gone on strike, she smiled, took his hand, and let him pull her into the dance.
