“Margaret?”
Margaret froze. He never called her by her full name. What did she do wrong?
She always felt this around him. She was walking delicately on broken glass; any wrong move, wrong word, and she was out. It was exhausting, but worth it. He was perfect.
And that’s why she stood there, deer in headlights, in the middle of the dancefloor, being led around numbly by her god of a boyfriend in a dance that she should be enjoying, franticly looking back on her day. What did she do wrong?
The man.
The man from the elevator.
His hand in her hand.
“Let me explain!” she said, taking a couple of steps back from him, panicked. “I didn’t kno-”
And then he hugged her.
Tightly.
The breath knocked out of her, Margaret just stood there, literally breathless, in his warm arms. The tension seeping out of her, she placed her head delicately on his chest, her ear as close to his heartbeat as she could get.
Her bliss did not last long.
“Margaret,” he whispered into her ear. “We need to talk.”