He is content to dance even after everything that’s happened. And will happen still. So I relax into the moment and let myself be content too.
When the song ends, Dean is there, waiting to sweep me away for his turn.
For the next few songs, they take turns whirling me around and holding me close, and I enjoy the best date of my life despite what waits for us outside this music and these walls.
By the end of the next song, I’m winded and warm.
“Drinks?” Dean asks.
“Food,” I say firmly and they chuckle as we head for the buffet.
Plate in hand, I lift the lid of the nearest serving dish. Potatoes. Vegetables. Steak. One by one, I take a small helping of each. The boys wander to a second table full of desserts, but I stop to get a peek at the last option, the platter everyone else has somehow skipped—and gasp at what lies underneath.
A heart, covered in blood, sits on a tray of greens, plated to look like some sort of fancy entrée.
The lid slips from my shaking hand and hits the floor with a loud clatter.
Eyes land on me.
Dean is at my side in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as Declan kneels at my feet to retrieve the lid I dropped.
I shake, nearly spilling the contents of my plate, now piled high.
“I saw. . .”
But when I look back at the serving tray, I trail off.
The heart is gone.
Now, there is a dark meat soaked in au jus along with carrots and onions.
“The label says it’s lamb,” Dean says, clearly confused. “Would you like some?”
I shake my head.
Another illusion, I tell myself, glancing around for Nurse Schmidt.
But she’s nowhere in sight.
We find empty chairs and settle at one of the round tables to eat.
Maria and Angus sit with us, and I don’t fail to notice the wine glass filled with red liquid that Angus sips from. After a few minutes, Holly slides into the last empty seat.
“You’re not eating?” I ask her, glancing at Angus’ drink.
She shakes her head, looking away.
The food is delicious, and I force myself to forget about what I saw. Maria and the boys discuss whether the steak is better than the lamb.
I’ve eaten nearly half my plate when I suddenly wonder if it hasn’t all been spelled somehow. Or drugged.
Worried anew, I set my fork aside.
“What is it?” Dean asks.
“You don’t think . . .”
“What?” he presses.
I bite my lip. “It’s delicious. Almost too good.”
Dean shares a look with Declan and before they can answer, the music abruptly stops and the mood in the room shifts. All of the ghostly guests blink out of sight. We all turn to see what has sent the conversations around us to an abrupt halt.
Cutter stands in the doorway.
His suit is impeccably cut and expensive, though it fits right in with the fancy formalwear of the others. Despite that, I am not fooled. His ego and his need to be in control is as disgusting as ever. Rather than blend with us, he’s forced us to blend with him.
He does a quick sweep of the room and when his gaze settles on me, I can feel the weight of it.
The twins both growl under their breath and I know they can feel it too.
The music starts up again and Cutter looks away from me, heading for the bar.
I exhale.
“Here.” Dean presses a glass of champagne into my hand. “Might as well take advantage.”
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
He slants a look at me. “Your heart is racing, Celeste.” When I hesitate, he adds, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Enjoy yourself this one night.”
I relax and take a small sip.
Under the table, Declan wraps his hand around mine in silent reassurance.
My eyes catch on another figure in the doorway and the champagne bubbles I’ve just swallowed tingle inside me.
Like a magnet, Dr. Livingstone finds me immediately. His expression softens as he takes in my appearance and some strange emotion washes over me.
After a brief hesitation, he crosses to me, and I rise to meet him, everything else forgotten.
“Celeste, you look . . .”
He trails off, and I blink, disappointed that he didn’t finish. But I remind myself he is my doctor.
“Declan, Dean, it’s good to see you two,” he says.
“Doctor.”
I look over only to see that both guys are standing now, one on either side of me. Dr. Livingstone’s eyes sharpen at the way they edge in close, protective.