“Who wants champagne?” Sabrina asks. “Love some,” I say without looking away from Olivia. Her gaze narrows, but she doesn’t break my stare. Everyone else politely moves toward the bar, leaving us as close to alone as we’re going to get in this crowded place. “I can’t believe it’s you. Didn’t I say I’d seen you before?” I ask, shaking my head with disbelief. “And you said—” “Maybe in another life,” she finishes the statement for me and for a second, her angry demeanor softens. “I need another drink,” she says, staring off into the distance like she’s in a haze.
