The glow of candlelight danced along the surface of the wine glasses. A soft hum of jazz played beneath the ambient clinking of cutlery and whispered conversations all around them.

Katherine stared at the name like it wasn’t real.

Kingsley.

Everything around her dimmed.

That name, just the name, was a trigger. A rush of memories. A jolt to her ribs. A bitter bloom in her stomach. The soft way he once said her name. The nights she waited. The nights he didn’t come home. ...