Cellie's POV
The orchestra shifted into something with more tempo, the music filling the courtyard with a warmth that the evening air was beginning to need as the sun dropped lower and the sky deepened into that particular shade of blue that came just before dark. The candles on the tables caught the change and brightened against it, and around me people began drifting toward the center of the space to dance, pulled in by the music and the wine and the specific gravity of a good party finding its rhythm. I watched them go and stayed where I was and tried to look like a woman who was exactly where she wanted to be and not at all thinking about a grey-eyed man across the courtyard who was currently being reclaimed by someone who had a far more legitimate claim on him than I did.
I glanced over once. I had promised myself I would only do it once.
