Gemotions

He had the audacity to be smiling. James saw Sarah across the crowded reception hall, laughing with the best man, her hand resting on his arm. It made his head pound. He gripped his scotch glass so tightly, he feared the crystal might crack.

His palms began to sweat. He forced a smile, the kind that felt more like a grimace. He needed to appear casual, unaffected. He moved toward the buffet table, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

Each bite of the tasteless canapés felt like a betrayal. He imagined throwing the whole plate across the room, watching the miniature quiches and cheese puffs explode in a chaotic display of… of everything. He swallowed hard. It wouldn't do. He had to be above this.

He saw her turn and, oh, the way she looked at him. The very idea that she might be thinking about him, too, made his chest tighten.