Page 109 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

I nod.

A sigh. “Damn.”

“I know.”

She comes over, leans back against the counter beside me. “He’ll come around.”

I’m not so sure of that.

But all I say is, “I know.”

Because, God, I hope it’s true.

Thirty-Two

River

By the time the fantasy ball arrives, I still haven’t heard from Thorn.

No calls.

No showing up at the house.

Nothing.

And now I’m wearing the emerald gown Briar chose weeks ago.

The one I secretly hoped that Thorn would see me in and then fall to his knees like one of my fictional heroes.

My stomach twists.

Because I’m starting to lose faith.

What if he never comes back?

What if he stays in the shadows and hides forever?

Sighing, I walk through the doors and enter the ballroom.

It’s objectively beautiful.

And it’s also—unfortunately—significantly less magical while my love life is imploding and my future happiness hangs in the balance.

Hundreds of lanterns are suspended from the ceiling, twinkling like floating stars.

String musicians play orchestral versions of popular songs near a massive marble staircase.

Guests swirl across the dance floor in elaborate gowns and embroidered jackets, looking like they’ve stepped directly from the pages of some of my favorite books.

Weeks ago, this was my dream.

Tonight…it just feels wrong.

Because every few minutes my gaze is drawn toward the entrance.

And every few minutes Thorn isn’t walking through the double doors, isn’t coming over to me, isn’t taking my hand and telling me he loves me.

That he wants to keep me forever.