I glanced again toward the museum. "But what about Bianca?"
"Last I heard, she's calling a cab."
"Really? When did you hear that?"
"Five minutes ago."
I winced. "Sorry about that."
He gave a soft chuckle. "Don't be. I'm paying for it."
"Oh. Well, um, sorry about that too."
As we pulled away from the curb, I watched through the car window as the museum slid out of view. It should have been an amazing night. In truth, ithadbeen an amazing night, right up until the moment it wasn't.
Inside the car, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I didn't feel like making small talk, and I sure as hell didn't feel like discussing anything of importance. The motion of the car, all that champagne, the pure exhaustion, it was all taking its toll.
I hadn't even danced with him. I should have danced with him. But stupidly, I'd thought there was plenty of time. I'd been wrong.
And now, I'd probably never get to dance with him. Too bad too, because I'd been dreaming of that since I'd been seventeen. Tired of thinking about the present – or heaven forbid, my uncertain future – I settled back to think about the past.