Violet couldn't deny that she was having a good time at these stranger's wedding. No one knew that she was underage while they handed her glasses of wine. She was offered a cigarette which she accepted gratefully, considering her stressful night. As the night continued on, she began to feel more light-headed and as if everything in her life no longer mattered. Her and Tate would exchange glances frequently, much to Violet's embarrassment.

After about an hour of drinking and laughter, the bride announced that everyone should move to public dining area for a dance. Violet was pretty hesitant at the idea because she never learned how to dance. Maybe she could go and just watch everyone else. A hand came down beside her and she looked up to see Tate smiling down at her.

"C-Come on, Harmon," he said drunkenly. "Let's g-go have a good time."

Violet couldn't help but feel excited. Someone she didn't know - but who was amazingly handsome - was asking her to dance. But even though she was happy about someone asking her to dance, she didn't feel like risking other people's limbs with her lack of coordination.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Tate asks when Violet doesn't move.

I could put everyone on their ass, Violet thought. When she didn't say anything or move, Tate reached down and took her hand, dragging her out of the private dining room and onto the dance floor of the public one where everyone was having a great time. Everyone was swaying, grinding and spinning around drunkenly. They laughed and drank as the night went on.

When they reached the crowded floor, Tate pulled Violet close into his arms and started dancing. Violet just moved her feet as Tate spun them around. As drunk as she was, she was still aware of what was going on. She knew how drunk Tate Langdon must be, which kind of made her feel bad because she was sure he had no idea what he was doing. She let him sway her around like a lifeless doll while he laughed. It wasn't long until he stopped and pulled back.

"What's wrong, Harmon?" he asks.

Violet shrugs.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugs again.

Tate looks around and walks through the crowd of people, leaving Violet standing awkwardly in the crowd of dancing party-goers. She looked at everyone's face and could see how much they were all having and she was jealous. Everyone knew each other and she immediately felt like an outsider. She had never been to The Black Dahlia and now she knew why. It was a place where the high-class socialites came for a good time.

She quickly thought of Constance and Moira. What would happen if she went back too late? What if Constance never let her back into her home? Violet was all sorts of worried at this point because working for that awful woman had been the best job she ever had since she left home. Was it really worth walking out because she couldn't handle what was said to her? She knew she had Moira to keep her sane. She never understood how she put up with Constance for so long, but she admired her for it.

After a lot of thinking, Violet went to pick up her coat and left. She pulled her coat close around her tiny frame and headed back to Constance's house, hoping she would be forgiven. Violet was always an honest person, but she could be very critical. She was now beginning to worry if her traits from high school had followed her to the real world. The whole walk back, Violet was trying to think of some things to say to Constance to possibly soften her up after the incident that night. She had ruined her boss's dinner because she saw the girl who helped break her family apart. Violet grew angry at the memory, but simmered down when she remembered that what had happened is done and there wasn't much she could do to fix it. She just had to accept that this was her life now.

She knocked on the door to Constance's house. When the door opened, her breath caught in her throat. To her relief, Moira was the one to answer, telling her that Constance had gone to bed but she was allowed back in. Violet hugged Moira and thanked her before heading back up to her bedroom. She was still feeling hazy and unbalanced from all the alcohol she consumed. Speaking of which...

She thought of Tate Langdon and how rude it was for her not to thank him for inviting her out. But then she remembered that he was a stranger who picked her up on his way to a friend's wedding.

Tate Langdon, she thought. Langdon. Then Violet gasped. She thought of the name 'Langdon' being Constance's last name. She was shocked to know that her boss and Tate's last name were the same. Coincidence? But Langdon wasn't a very common last name, so is it possible they're related somehow? He could be her nephew, second cousin. Son?

Tate had woken up the next morning with a bad headache and an empty champagne glass hanging between his fingers. He was staring at the ceiling and started wondering where he was. He carefully lifted his head up and saw that he was back in the bedroom of his hotel room. He dropped it back against the pillows and sighed with relief. He wasn't sure how he got back to his room, but he was grateful. He was especially grateful that he didn't wake up with a girl in his bed; since he had a long history of having sex with girls while vastly intoxicated.

He remembered bits and pieces of Kyle's wedding. He remembered the wedding and the reception with mountains of bottles of alcohol. It still amazed him how he managed to get to the reception at The Black Dahlia without crashing since he was drunk prior to the reception.

But above everything else, there was one thing - or person - that Tate remembered from the night before. She was small, petite, young and dare he say it, beautiful. What was her name again?

A long pause as he thought about the name of the girl.

And then it hit him.

Violet.

There was something about that girl that reminded Tate of himself. He loved her fire and her feistiness. He recognized a strength in himself that he never sensed in anyone before and it intrigued him.

And then Chloe came to mind.

"Damn it!" Tate shouted. He crawled out of bed and grabbed the phone, despite his angry headache. He picked up the phone and dialed his fiancee's number.

She answered after three rings.

"Tate?" Chloe answers.

He sighs. Hearing her voice brought back the fight they had the night before. He hated fighting with Chloe, but he also hated it when it felt like she should be the first and only thing in his life. How could expect to further his career in writing if she wasn't supporting him, much less holding him back?

"Hi, Chloe," he answered half-heartedly.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You sound awful."

Tate wanted to tell her the truth about his out of control binge at Kyle's wedding reception, but she was all too familiar with his past. She made it very clear that she would never forgive him or accept anything if he cheated on her, whether he was drunk or sober. Tate was afraid that he would lose everything if he lost Chloe out of stupidity. But thankfully he realized that nothing happened with anyone, so he had nothing to worry about.

"I, um..." He tried hard to come up with some excuse. "Kyle's wife was sick and I think she might have passed something onto me." He fake coughs.

"Oh, you poor baby," she coos.

"Look, baby, I'm sorry about our fight last night," Tate says. "I haven't been sleeping well and I guess I was just having a bad day."

Usually when Tate and Chloe fought, he was the one left apologizing because everyone knew Chloe well enough to know that whether she was at fault for something or not, she would never say, "I'm sorry". As angry as she made him, Tate loved his fiancee with all his heart; he would never let anything or anyone get in the way of that.

"It's alright, Tate," she says softly. "You are forgiven."

Tate smiles to himself. "Thanks." He sighs. "Well, I'll be home tomorrow. Are you going to be okay until then?"

There's a heavy sigh of exasperation on the other end. "I suppose I have no choice, do I?"

Tate doesn't say anything.

"I'll see you tomorrow." And before Tate can say anything else, the line goes dead. He puts the phone angrily and runs his fingers through his lanky blonde curls.

He decided to have a shower and start a new day.