The man's broad, reassuring hand steadied her arm, keeping her from falling. Yet, despite their closeness, a sense of distance lingered between them. His eyes were downcast, warm and restrained, silently observing her. He didn't advance any further, conducting himself with a gentleman's composure.
Serena Brown struggled to fight back the pricklings of tears.
Three years—
She'd spent over a thousand days and nights without seeing him.
And now, there they were, face to face. He remained calm and polite, just as he always had, without exhibiting any signs of emotional sway. There seemed to be nothing in this world that could stir a ripple of emotion in him.
She gingerly held onto the sofa, so careful and treasured. She dared not even place her hand over his for support, lest she shatter this seemingly illusionary moment.
"Thank you…" she stammered.
Once Wilson Finley saw that she was steady, he tactfully withdrew his hand. "You're welcome."
