The wind was soft against Katherine's skin, the night air laced with the scent of white roses blooming in pots along the balcony edge. For a moment, it felt like everything paused. The laughter and music from inside became a faint hum, like a dream drifting further away.
She pulled away quickly, stumbling back a few steps as her heels clicked awkwardly against the tiled floor. Her fingers clutched her dress with nervous, like it could anchor her. Turning her back to him, she pressed both palms against her cheeks and then gave herself a small, sharp slap.
"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath. "You're drunk. Just drunk."
This was ridiculous. She'd had three—maybe four—glasses of champagne. Okay, maybe she wasn't the iron-stomached college girl anymore, but hallucinating Leonard Ford? That had to be her limit. She shook her head and turned back around slowly, expecting the face of a stranger, maybe someone who vaguely resembled him. Her heart stumbled in her chest.
