Yes, that's right, having been a good girl and written the story that everyone voted for, I am now being thoroughly perverse and pig-headed and writing the story that nobody voted for... well, nobody except meril, and she's not even in the fandom, she was just being nice to me.
But I'm having such fun!
"Vaughn, what's the--" you start to say, but the sight of his hands stops you short, steals your breath, freezes the words on your tongue. Every bone of those hands is familiar to you, every crease, every callus, every scar: you remember with acute clarity the feeling of those palms caressing your skin, the long slow strokes of those fingers through your hair, before time and Lauren drove you apart. Nothing about those hands has changed since you saw them last... except for one, vital thing.
"Where is..." Your voice is barely a whisper, and it cracks on the last word; you take a deep breath and try again. "Vaughn... where's your wedding ring?"
He slams both hands down on the desk and spins around to face you. His eyes blaze with cold fury, and you can tell that the only thing keeping him from jumping to his feet and shouting at you is his determination not to make a scene. Instead he grips the arms of the chair and grates the words out between his teeth: "Look, Syd. I know you've just been through a tough time. But that -- was low. Even for you."
And before you can even begin to process what he's just said, let alone reconcile yourself to the bitter contempt in his tone, he shoves his chair back and stalks away.