Valerian wrapped his arms around Greengrass, trying to shake himself from the sudden nerves that seemed determined to ruin his evening. He felt guilty; tonight was supposed to be about him and Greengrass, not Tatiana, and yet there was no way to enjoy any of this so close to his wedding without his mind trailing to that. He pondered Greengrass' words, knowing Greengrass well enough to know he would listen, but the last thing he wanted to do was pour his problems onto the man who was already uncomfortable with the concept of his marriage.
"It's about her," he said quietly, turning his head sideways to bury his face into Greengrass' curls. He didn't want to see the look on his face—the annoyance, the sadness, the resignation, the whatever. He felt ashamed enough already.
"It's about her," he said quietly, turning his head sideways to bury his face into Greengrass' curls. He didn't want to see the look on his face—the annoyance, the sadness, the resignation, the whatever. He felt ashamed enough already.
