ROMAN
I adjusted my tie for the fifth time, scowling at my reflection. The invitation sat on my bathroom counter, elegant cream cardstock with precise black lettering:
"You are cordially invited to celebrate the official launch of the Rogue Rehabilitation Foundation..."
Vanessa's signature graced the bottom—flowing and confident. She'd sent it directly to me, not through an assistant or courier. That had to mean something.
I grabbed my keys and headed out. The drive to the venue gave me time to rehearse what I might say to her. We'd been civil since her memories returned, but distant. Tonight felt like an opportunity. A chance to bridge the gap between polite coexistence and something more.
The hotel ballroom was transformed when I arrived—elegant but not ostentatious. Subtle lighting, tasteful floral arrangements. Pure Vanessa. She'd always understood how to create spaces that felt both impressive and welcoming.
