Chapter 18 - The Ice Sculpture
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The ice sculpture was a massive, slightly gaudy swan. Daniel stood near it, nursing a scotch, looking distinctly uncomfortable despite his tailored tuxedo.
Claire approached him slowly, navigating the crowd with practiced ease.
He saw her coming, and his posture straightened immediately.
"Claire," he breathed, looking at her as if she were a ghost he desperately wanted to haunt him. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you."
"I didn't think you'd come."
"Eleanor sent an invitation."
"She didn't tell me."
"That was probably intentional," Claire said smoothly.
Daniel looked at his glass, then back at her.
"I'm glad you're here. It feels... strange without you managing the room."
"It feels wonderful to not be managing the room," Claire corrected gently.
"Are you having a good time?"
"I am. I talked to Rebecca. She seems happy."
"She is," Daniel agreed, a flicker of genuine sadness passing over his face. "She got out."
"You got out too, Daniel."
"I was pushed out," he corrected.
"You sold your shares. You made a choice."
"I didn't have any other options."
Claire looked at him, feeling the old, familiar urge to soothe his wounded ego. She recognized the impulse, examined it, and deliberately let it go.
"You always have options, Daniel. You just didn't like the ones you had left."
He flinched slightly, but he didn't argue.
"I miss you, Claire."
The words were heavy, carrying years of regret.
"I know."
"Is that all you can say?"
"Yes."
May you like
The ballroom music swelled, signaling the approaching midnight hour.
"Happy New Year, Daniel," Claire said, turning away from the ice sculpture and walking back into the crowd.
