Catherine shot Harrell a surprised look.
A guy like Lance, getting married without feelings? That didn’t make sense. Unless, maybe, it was like what happened with her—he only married her because he felt he had to.
Harrell’s question hung in the air.
Lance didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “You’ve had enough. Go home and sleep it off. Stop talking nonsense.” He grabbed Harrell’s jacket and tossed it at his head. “I’m out.”
He walked out first. Catherine snapped out of her thoughts and hurried after him.
Harrell pulled the jacket off his head, mumbled a goodbye to the others, and quickly caught up.
The three of them ended up in the elevator together.
The private room had been thick with smoke and alcohol, and Catherine could barely breathe. Lance and Harrell still smelled like they’d been soaking in it. The elevator felt even smaller with that heavy scent hanging around them.
Catherine stepped back, pressing herself into a corner.
“How long have you and Lance been together?” Harrell leaned against the wall, looking over at her.
Lance glanced at her too. “Five or six years, right?”
“Five years and seven months,” Catherine said quietly.
Harrell’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So from what you know, does Lance actually have feelings for Adelina?”
Lance’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening.
“Of course he does,” Catherine said.
Harrell let out a sudden laugh. “If he really did, why did it take so many years for them to finally end up together?”
Catherine kept her eyes fixed ahead, pretending she hadn’t heard.
Lance didn’t say a word either.
The silence in the elevator felt suffocating.
Finally, the doors slid open with a soft chime.
“Lance, Harrell!”
Adelina stood outside, breathless. A black Hermès bag hung from her arm. She stepped forward, slipped her arm through Lance’s, and pulled him out of the elevator.
Adelina nodded. For once, she didn’t argue. She started the car and drove off.
Lance said a quick goodbye to Harrell and got into Catherine’s car.
By the time Catherine merged into traffic, Adelina’s car was already gone.
Adelina had been acting weird tonight.
Cars flashed past on the road.
After a while, Adelina’s car appeared again, doubling back.
Harrell was still standing outside Azure Heights, smoking. When he heard footsteps rushing up behind him, he turned.
A second later, someone snatched the cigarette out of his hand and slapped him, hard.
“What did you say to Lance?”
Harrell’s head jerked to the side, a red mark blooming on his pale cheek.
His cool, calm eyes suddenly turned stormy.

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