4. FOREVER IN A SECOND

I was late. Not fashionably, not strategically—just late enough to feel the thrum of the party before I even reached the ballroom. The muted bass of whatever playlist they’d cobbled together seeped into the carpeted hallway, a low, steady pulse that made my chest tighten.

The double doors were propped open now, the velvet rope gone. Inside, light spilled in a warm, gold wash over the round tables and the gleam of glassware. Laughter rose and broke in pockets across the room, the sound layered with the occasional shout of recognition or the clink of ice against glass.

At the check-in table just outside the entrance, a familiar face sat with her chin propped in her hand, the same disgruntled look she’d worn earlier in the day. Her lipstick was fresh; her smile wasn’t.

“Rhys,” she said, stoic.

“Candace,” I replied, smirk.

A neat spread of name tags sat in front of her, black print on glossy white, each one tucked into a plastic sleeve. I scanned until I found mine—Rhys Calloway—and slid the lanyard over my head.