Agnes & Elijah
Agnes
The cool champagne slid down my throat as Mason tilted the glass against my lips. The alcohol warmed my chest almost immediately, and my nausea ebbed away like a receding tide.
“Better?” Mason asked, lowering the glass.
I nodded, trying to process what I’d just seen. Olivia in a wedding gown. Here. Tonight. The implications made my head spin all over again.
“Come on,” Mason said, gently taking my elbow. “Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”
Before I could protest, he was guiding me away from the curious stares and whispers, through a side door and into a small room. It was dimly lit and furnished with a few plush chairs and a small sofa. The heavy door closed behind us, muffling the orchestra and chatter from the main hall.
My hands were shaking.
