His face darkened slightly when he saw my bare arm and the prominent white cast.

“I thought I told you to cover that,” he hissed, stepping close to me as the doorbell rang.

“It didn’t fit under the sleeve of any of my other dresses, Derek,” I whispered back, offering a small, helpless smile.

“You did this on purpose,” he muttered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp anger.

“The doorbell, darling,” I said, keeping my voice sweet and steady. “We shouldn’t keep your parents waiting in the cold.”

He stared at me for a long second, his chest rising and falling with controlled breath.

Then, the mask slipped back over his face, smooth and perfect.

“Go open it,” he commanded quietly.

I walked to the front door, my heels clicking on the hardwood, my left hand reaching for the brass handle.

I opened the door to reveal his parents, Arthur and Eleanor, standing on the porch under the glow of the carriage lights.

Behind them, a second car was already idling in the driveway, its headlights cutting through the falling snow.