At around nine thirty Russell appeared beside me and placed a light hand on my arm before whispering, “You look tired tonight, maybe you should head home early and I will catch a ride later.”
I was not tired but I recognized the tone of dismissal disguised as concern, so I simply kissed his cheek and said, “Have a good evening Russell, do not stay out too late if you have meetings tomorrow morning.”
Instead of driving home immediately I parked several houses away and waited with the headlights off while laughter spilled from Danielle’s large glass windows. Fifteen minutes passed before the atmosphere inside changed subtly, the crowded gathering shrinking into a smaller circle of people who seemed far more comfortable now that the outer layer of polite acquaintances had disappeared.
Through the window I saw Russell standing beside a tall woman with dark auburn hair and elegant posture, a woman named Victoria Hale who rested her hand on his arm as if claiming something that once belonged to her. Their closeness did not resemble casual friendship because his hand rested possessively against the small of her back while they leaned together in quiet conversation near the fireplace.