I escape to the bathroom between the main course and dessert.
It's not that anything is wrong—the dinner has been lovely, the conversation warm, the company unexpectedly wonderful. But I need a moment. Just a moment to breathe, to process, to let the careful composure I've been maintaining soften into something more honest.
The Ritz-Carlton bathroom is predictably elegant: marble countertops, gold fixtures, soft lighting that makes everyone look like they're glowing. I stand at the sink, gripping the cool edge of the counter, and stare at my reflection. The emerald dress is still perfect. My makeup is still intact. But there's something in my eyes—a flicker of vulnerability I've been trying to hide all evening.
The door opens behind me. I don't turn around. I can see her reflection in the mirror.
Diana.
She pauses just inside the doorway, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I can wait outside."
