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"Thank you," I reply with a smile, and our eyes meet through the review mirror. He's kinda cute, in a Tom Hanks inForest Gumpkinda way. A little awkward, but he seems honest enough.

"Well, maybe you'll run into someone who reminds him not to take you for granted."

I huff out a quiet laugh, but the words linger longer than they should. "Maybe."

A strange thrill runs through me. Tonight feels like the beginning of something. I just don't know what yet.

By the time we pull up to the casino, my heart is racing again with anticipation. The Dominion rises out of the Las Vegas strip like something out of a dream. Or maybe a movie.

I've been to casinos before, of course. Everyone in Vegas has. Pete and I have wandered through plenty of them over the years, cheap buffets, blinking slot machines, crowds of touristsin Hawaiian shirts spilling margaritas on the carpet. But this… is different.

The Dominion doesn't look like a casino. It looks like a palace. A modern royal palace made of glass, steel, and dark marble, reflecting the city lights like a mirror. Tall, illuminated columns rise toward the sky, and a massive set of black-and-gold doors mark the entrance.

The driver pulls up close to the valet area and exclaims, "Wow."

Mirroring my sentiments exactly. Limousines are lining up at the front just on the other side of where my driver stopped. Valets in matching black uniforms appear instantly whenever a new limo pulls up, opening car doors, and both the driver and I watch in awe as men and women peel out of the vehicles, wearing dresses like mine and suits like the one that was sent for Pete.

I feel a little lost when I try to tip the driver with a five I find in my wallet, left over from my allowance, and he assures me that Pete has already paid him. It's no small feat to climb out of the tiny car and not stumble over the hem of my generous skirt, but I manage. Just like I manage to pull my shoulder blades back and tip my head back, looking like I belong.

"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to The Dominion." A valet greets me, without showing the slightest confusion over my climbing out of a tiny electric car instead of one of the large limos. He opens the door to the casino for me, and the moment I step into the large, air-conditioned space, I feel like I've stepped into someone else's life. Someone richer. Someone important. Someone who belongs here.

Inside, it smells faintly of expensive perfume and the exotic flowers tastefully arranged around side tables. Everything gleams. Crystal chandeliers hang high above the floor, casting soft golden light over the crowd. The sound of a string quartetdrifts from somewhere deeper in the building. People move through the lobby looking as if they belong in magazines.

The men wear tuxedos that probably cost more than our annual house payment. The women's gowns shimmer and flow like liquid silk. No Hawaiian shirts. No gaudy Vegas dresses. No drunken bachelor parties. These people have… class. Quiet wealth. The kind that doesn't need to shout. I glance around with my mouth slightly open.

"Pete," I whisper, unconsciously wanting to share this moment with him before I realize he isn't there.

Ahead of me, two attendants in elegant uniforms gesture toward a sweeping marble staircase. "Masquerade guests, this way please."

I pass through a long hallway; the ballroom waits below. At the top, I pause for a moment. From up here, I can see more of the ballroom below. Silk gowns drift through the crowd, masks glint under the lights, and people laugh softly as they move toward the doors.

For a moment, I just watch it all. My hand holds on tight to the small clutch that came with the dress, and I ignore the few glances thrown at me as people realize I'm alone. Nobody here is alone. I promise myself that I will not let that get to me and spoil this evening. Instead, I take in all the glam and splendor surrounding me. Women are decked out with jewels that sparkle in all colors of the rainbow, from their necks, their ears, their wrists, and their fingers. One even holds a stud in her belly button, which is exposed, probably just to show it off.

After another short moment, I begin climbing down a set of wide marble steps that gleam beneath the chandeliers. I wonder what it would be like being here with Pete. He might not have been the man of my dreams when I was younger. Back then, I imagined someone different, someone wild, someonedangerous, someone who made my heart race in all the reckless ways.

But Pete… Pete was the man I needed. Steady. Kind. Safe. The one who stayed when life got complicated. The one who helped me become a better person. A stable person. Yet, standing here, I start to contemplate if that is really all I want from life?

Seeing these people, the splendor, the luxury, I remember dreaming of visiting different places, I remember thinking how cool it would be to go skiing in the morning and bury my feet in the sand by a blue ocean in the evening.

These people here look like they are living that dream. When I mentioned a vacation to Pete, just a weekend at Lake Tahoe, he told me exactly how much money we had in our bank accounts. When I argued that I could make more money if I quit my job at the vet clinic and became the card dealer I'd originally wanted to be, he shook his head. "One day, babe," he promised. "We will go to Lake Tahoe. "

I swallow hard. Because Lake Tahoe, as promising as it sounds, isn't really all I want. I want to go, to do, to experience. It doesn't have to be like this ball; the sports bar down the street would be just fine, but Pete can never miss his five o'clock news. Something stirs in my stomach. The desire formoreis turning into a constant ache. One I'm having a hard time ignoring any longer.

Several men in dark suits wait by a side of the large double doors. One greets me evenly as I close in. "Good evening," he says smoothly, inclining his head. "Your table is ready."

I have no idea how he knows what table is waiting for me, but I follow him into the ballroom, which is just as enormous as it looked from above. The ceiling arches high above me, painted with soft clouds and gold accents that shimmer in the light.Crystal chandeliers hang like floating constellations, casting warm reflections across polished marble floors.

Everywhere I look is movement. Women in gowns that look like they were poured over their bodies. Men in tuxedos and masks that make them seem mysterious, almost royal. Velvet drapes frame the tall windows, and a live orchestra plays from a raised balcony at the far end of the room. Round tables are scattered across the ballroom floor, each covered in black velvet cloth and tall arrangements of dark roses and silver candles. My escort leads me to one near the center and pulls out my chair. "Enjoy your evening."

He disappears as quietly as he arrived, and I sit down, still staring around as if I've stepped into someone else's dream. A few minutes later, the rest of the table starts to fill in. Four couples in total. Everyone is masked. Everyone is elegant. And the introductions are brief.

"Claire."

"Marcus."

"Daniel."

"Lena."