Janet’s Point of ViewI stood there, exposed. No mask. No persona. There was no distance left between who I was and who he thought I might be. “Janet?” Rowan’s voice carried through the noise of the venue, not loud, but sharp enough to cut through everything else. There was shock in it, and something heavier I didn’t dare define. I didn’t move at first. He stepped closer, slowly, as if approaching something fragile—or dangerous. For one reckless second, I almost turned fully toward him. Almost let him see everything written plainly on my face. Instead, I pivoted away and forced my voice into steadiness. “I need to check something backstage,” I told the chief waitress, keeping my hands loosely clasped so he wouldn’t see the tension in them.Before Rowan could close the distance, a businessman intercepted him, calling his name with professional urgency. “Mr. Thayer, we need to finalize the partnership figures.” Rowan hesitated, and I felt that hesitation like a physical pull at my back.
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