Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“Enjoy the night, dear.” My boss barely gets out the words with a quick squeeze of my shoulder before calling out “There you are,” and brushing past, her husband in tow, to greet someone behind me. She’s a mess, but a delighted mess so I’ll take it.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her,” her husband, Sean, assures me with an equally delighted smile and a hint of his Southern accent. He’s tall with dark hair and watching them together … they pair perfectly.
I failed to tell her about the surprise, but how can I possibly think straight knowing Robert is right there? My cowardly heart wishes things were different. I wish I’d known how this was going to end years ago. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty.
“You didn’t sleep a wink.” I jump at Renee’s voice, my hand flying to my chest. She’s right, I didn’t sleep at all after Robert left. The reality of it all made me play out how the scene will go tonight when I confess it all to Brody.
With my lips parted, I swear I planned on making a joke about sleep, but not a word comes out and Renee’s eyes go big.
“You had sex with Brody,” she guesses in a hushed whisper, glee clear on her face.
With my lips pressed in a thin line, I shake my head gently and that glee vanishes, her brow climbing as high as it can go.
“Oh. Em. Gee. With Robert?” The shock on her face is exacerbated by her jaw remaining dropped. Her cherry-red lips match the fifties-style pinup dress.
“How the heck can you even tell I had sex,” I mutter in disbelief as she snags a second glass of champagne, throwing it back at my admission by lack of denial.
Blinking several times, she practically hisses her whisper with a scrunched-up expression, “You slept with Robert?”
“I …”
“The gala is going well.” Sharon’s voice is heard at the same time her hip bumps against mine, breaking into our invisible confessional booth.
The pop of a champagne bottle accompanied by a round of applause steals my attention. The man of conversation is responsible for the interruption. Robert’s found the bottle I stowed away for him behind the bar to impress whomever it is he’s attempting to persuade. Judging by the glimpse of pearly whites and nods, I think it’s going well for him.
I hope it is.
“You should become an event planner.” Sharon speaks up again before taking a sip of the bubbly. Her sleek red dress matches Renee’s lips, but Sharon opted for a nude shade on hers. It’s nearly eight now and the first thought I have, glancing at the clock on my phone, is that Brody’s bar is opening up now for the first time. Why last night of all the nights? Questions, regrets and unknowns swarm my head every empty second as the clock ticks on.
Sharon’s gaze finally lands on Renee’s expression and she rights herself to ask, “What did I miss?”
“Ladies,” Robert’s voice greets us just in time for the crowd to gather, Renee to my left and Sharon to my right. “I promised the director of administrations I’d introduce him to the planner of tonight’s event.” His crisp navy suit is my favorite of all the ones he owns because it frames his shoulders perfectly, and he’s wearing the dark gray tie I got him last Christmas. He slips his hand down it before smoothing his jacket as he introduces each of us, including Renee and Sharon.
Everything about him is easygoing and the group around him is relaxed. He has a way of doing that. He’s always been charming, polite and handsome. A tingle travels down my neck and across my shoulders just hearing his voice. The words that kept me up at night lay at the tip of my tongue, begging to be spoken. Swallowing them down, I manage a warm, “Thank you for coming.”
“My dear, this event is lovely,” Marc comments and I note that he’s much older than Robert, the wrinkles around his eyes giving proof to years of experience. Even still, he possesses the same charm and charisma.
Sharon’s a bit tipsy and pulls an adorable curtsy that’s rewarded with a chuckle from the far too sober director, but a great warmth from the woman on his arm. The woman Robert introduced as Olivia tells me, “I love everything about tonight.” She speaks with an accent I can’t place. Her makeup is subdued and natural compared to her attire, but not a strand is out of place in her simple but chic bun.
“Thank you, and I love your accent,” I tell her and the compliment only makes her smile broader. Perfect pearly whites shine back.
“Thank you. My husband stole me away from Spain years ago.” She gazes lovingly at Marc and I wonder what their love story is. I wonder if mine would resonate with her. Leaving the thoughts in my head where they belong, I listen to Robert boast about the art programs in town and the changes they’ve made to some bill that’s up for debate.