The second we approach, Damon’s attention is on me, a soft smile on his lips before it slips away and concern replaces it. He separates himself from the men around him and pushes a strand of hair behind my hair. “Do you want to go?” How does he know what I need? How does he always know? The men behind him are still deep in conversation, neither paying attention to us. “I’m just a little light-headed from the champagne and dancing. You stay. I’ll go with Nicholas.” “No. We go together.”
