The country club ballroom was suffocating. Clara stood near the ice sculpture, gripping a flute of champagne so tightly her knuckles were white. The room was filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the dull roar of fifty people celebrating her engagement to Mark. Mark, who was currently standing five feet away, laughing loudly at a joke his best man had told. Mark, who was safe, predictable, kind, and about as sexually compelling as a wet sponge.
Clara took a large gulp of her drink. She loved Mark. She did. He was going to be a great husband, a great provider. He’d never raise his voice, never challenge her, never push her out of her comfort zone. And as she watched him wipe a piece of lint off his navy blue blazer, a sudden, cold wave of panic washed over her. This was it. Th
