Shepard and Rawdon
In just a span of a few moments she'd managed to ruin everything. Her fucking big ass mouth. Any possibility of reconciliation of any kind with her daughter felt firmly flushed. Hadn't she only intended on letting Darcy know that anything that happened between Ashley and Rawdon in the ballroom? That was supposed to be it. Maybe congratulate him, welcome him to the family with a firm pat on the back and return to business as usual.
Then came the word vomit. "Fucking step eight is what that was. Taking over my brain." She murmured to herself. But Shepard was determined to drown that little twelve step voice out. She had hijacked an entire platter of wineglasses. Leaving a trail, starting with those stupid kitten heels leading out of the ballroom door. Then at intervals, spacing that she was damn near gulping down, the empty glasses were set down on flat surfaces that lead to the nearest door outside.
By the time he would find her, she was down to four glasses of wine on the platter, and it balanced in the walled off bit of walk way. She'd lost the combs in the gravel, as she finally gave in and put her hands in her hair. And that was where they were, elbows propped against the wall, defeated slope to her back. Hand in her hair.