Vanessa

I hear Grandpa Delta's words about not repeating my earlier "performance" and look away.

Brent picks up my purse, handing it to me.

My fingers slide over the back of his hand. I caress it, not breaking eye contact with him. Then, after a few minutes, I grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder.

Brent grabs my waist as I walk past him, pulling me into an embrace.

We don't kiss.

He hugs me tightly as if he's struggling to hold on to ...