I walked out of the bedroom, my heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
Damon was coming up the stairs, his tie still loose around his neck. He stopped on the third step from the top, his hand gripping the banister. His eyes traveled from my shoes up to my neck, staying there for a long moment.
“Are you seriously wearing that?” he asked. His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth.
“Yes,” I said, smoothing my hands down the skirt. “I bought it last week.”
“You look like you are trying too hard, Elena,” he said, adjusting his collar. “A woman your age in bright green. People are going to stare.”
“Let them stare,” I said, though my voice caught slightly.
“I am not going to let a beautiful evening go to waste,” I added.
Damon laughed, a short, sharp sound. “You always take things so defensively. I am just looking out for you. You do not want to make a fool of yourself in front of the kids.”
