He put down the glass, smoothed his tuxedo, and started walking toward the one woman who knew exactly who he was—and was still waiting to see if he’d finally grow up.
They flickered through the years like a glitching film reel. He saw the faces he’d blurred out: the intern who lost her job because he forgot to tell her the meeting time; the artist who stopped painting after he told her her dreams were 'unrealistic' over a breakup text. Ghosts of Girlfriends Past
The air in the ballroom was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and the kind of forced cheer that only exists at high-society weddings. Connor Mead, a man who treated hearts like disposable cameras—clicking once and moving on—stood by the bar, nursing a scotch. He wasn’t here for the romance; he was here because his brother, Paul, was the only person left who still believed Connor had a soul. He put down the glass, smoothed his tuxedo,