Ella
The rest of the evening passes without further drama, but as far as I’m concerned, the night has been a wash. The procession through the city’s old quarter would have been magical at any other time– with the traditions, music and palpable gaiety of all those around us. If I’d been able to focus on anything other than my thoughts, I’m fairly certain I would have fallen in love with the occasion, but I wasn’t able to give the events the attention they deserved.
I’m exhausted by the time we’re finally free to leave, thinking that I’ll certainly need an extra-long nap tomorrow even as I climb into the back of the limo. I’m distracted and grumpy, and when Sinclair slides into the car next to me, I vacate my seat, choosing the one facing him instead.
Sinclair arches a brow, but doesn’t
