It was how eagerly people accepted them because truth would ruin dinner.
“I need the restroom,” she whispered.
“You went twenty minutes ago.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
Grant smiled as an aunt passed.
“Five minutes. Do not talk to anyone.”
Anna crossed the lobby, passed the powder room, and pushed through a side door onto a covered patio.
November rain blew beneath the awning.
Cold air struck her face.
She wrapped both arms around herself.
One breath.
Two.
Five minutes without Grant’s cologne, Grant’s voice, or Grant’s eyes measuring every expression.
The door clicked behind her.
“You always did enjoy embarrassing me.”
Grant stood beneath the yellow patio light.