Gemotions

The champagne flute felt heavy in Amelia's hand, a solid weight mirroring the rock in her stomach. She saw him across the crowded reception hall, laughing with a woman whose hand rested possessively on his arm. Amelia's jaw clenched. The last thing she wanted was to be near him, to breathe the same air, to endure the forced pleasantries.

She purposefully bumped into a passing waiter, sending a tray of appetizers clattering to the floor. "Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry!" she blurted, her voice sharper than intended. She didn't apologize to the waiter. Her gaze remained locked on him, daring him to meet her eyes. He didn't.