Ivor wrapped his arms around her from behind, his voice a warm murmur against her ear. "Do you like it, Jocelyn? The whole city is celebrating your birthday."
Her gaze drifted to the last wave of fireworks waiting to launch in the distance. The brilliant points of light flickered in her eyes, bright then dark, bright then dark, without a trace of warmth.
"Ivor. Let's get a divorce."
The arms around her waist clamped tight. "What did you just say?"
She peeled his hands away. "I said drop the act. Let each other go."
A nameless panic spread through him. His expression darkened in an instant.
He was about to speak when the final firework screamed skyward, then suddenly veered off course, spiraling wildly as flames sprayed in every direction.
Ivor spun around and seized Jocelyn by the throat, fingers digging in. "This was you, wasn't it? When did you become this vicious? You won't stop until Nellie is dead?"
Jocelyn couldn't breathe. Her fingers clawed weakly at his wrists as she struggled.
Firelight danced across Ivor's face. That face, once the gentlest she had ever known, was now twisted beyond recognition.