Kendra’s POV
Caleb and I talked for a little while before I excused myself.
“I need a drink,” I murmured.
He didn’t stop me. He just gave a short nod and looked away.
I turned and walked off without looking back.
But I could feel his eyes on my back the whole way.
I slipped onto one of the barstools, suddenly too aware of the slit in my dress, the way everything in this world seemed designed to expose you.
“A drink?” the bartender asked, voice smooth and impersonal.
“Vodka. Just… vodka,” I said, not caring if that was proper or expected.
He poured without asking another question, and I was grateful for the silence.
I took a sip. It burned in all the right places.
My eyes drifted across the room, scanning the crowd again. Faces blurred together. Men in tuxedos. Women dripping in
