With a snap of my fiance’s ring-clad fingers, dinner begins. A lazy version of Ava Maria drifts out of the piano, serving as a backdrop to the easy chatter. Wine and whiskey flow, as much into my glass as anyone elses, but it does nothing to dull the unease brewing under my skin. I can’t take my eyes off him. At first, I watch his every move because I’m waiting for the moment he tells Alberto he recognizes me. The girl in the sweatpants balancing with one foot dangerously over the edge of a cliff. Alone. I’m waiting for Alberto to pin me with that blistering glare, jaw grinding, just like he
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