Me: I’m still here, but I need to leave. Like now.
Allie: Where is here? Because I haven’t been able to find you.
I send her the directions to my hiding place in the darkened meeting room, and shortly after, I can hear her quietly calling my name from the hallway. Dragging myself up from the floor, I brush off my dress and open the door. The bright light is momentarily blinding as I call to Allie at the end of the corridor.
“Wow, what happened to you? You look like you’ve just been …” Allie’s hand flies to her mouth, and her perfectly arched eyebrows stretch higher than usual.
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. I don’t want to talk about it … yet. Just get me out of here without running into one of my family members.” I run my fingers through my tangled, messy hair, which only a half hour ago was softly curled and artfully held in place by firm-hold gel and hairspray. It turns out not even the most expensive hair styling products can withstand thirty minutes under Drew’s onslaught.
When I’ve finished fixing my hair the best I can, I realize Allie is still staring at me, her mouth slightly open.
“Stop looking at me like that. We need to go.” And like a starter’s gun going off, she springs into action, grabbing me by the hand. With quick, small steps, she drags me down the hallway back toward the ballroom. I trust she knows where she’s going, because at this point, I have no idea.
When we’re just about back to the hallway where the bathrooms are, she snags the attention of a waiter. Then with a flutter of her lashes, she convinces him to collect our coats from the coat check desk and direct us out through another exit. The concierge hails us a cab, and shortly after, we’re on our way home.
Sighing with relief, I glance sideways at my friend. “Thanks, Al, and I’m sorry I dragged you away from the party early.”
She turns to face me and reaches out to pat my hand that’s resting on the seat between us. “What else are friends for?” Then, in a lowered voice so the driver can’t hear, she asks, “Was it more dick sorcery?”
I nod. “Damn that man and his sorcery. He messes with my head and pretty much everything else. I’m better off just not being around him.”
“Is he gone?”
I nod again. “I told him to leave … I assume he did.” My brow crinkles with the memory of him walking out the door. He didn’t object. He just left. I guess it tells me everything I need to know. He got what he wanted tonight. Well, maybe not everything he planned on, because I’m sure he wasn’t expecting to be left with blue balls.
With a shake of my head, I try to dislodge the feeling of having been used or, more accurately, letting myself be used. The blame needs to be shared though. I should never have agreed to go somewhere private with him, especially when I know I can’t resist hischarms.
I check my phone, but there’s nothing from Drew. Instead, there is a slew of messages from Allie. I scroll through them. “Oh, I missed the silent auction. Did you win Logan?”
She huffs loudly. “Yes, but really, is that winning? Dinner with him is more like a joke prize and certainly not worth the ridiculous bid he made me submit.”
“You two really should try to get along better. It’s not like you can avoid each other when you’re two of my closest people.”
Even though she’s looking out the window, I can tell by the movement of her shoulders that she just rolled her eyes. That’s the thing about best friends: you know all their little gestures, loves, and hates.
Funny thing though, I can’t figure out if Logan fits into the love or hate bucket for Allie.
Six Weeks Later
I can’t believe it’s nearly the end of January and I haven’t done anything about my New Year’s resolutions yet. Maybe this year they’re unattainably high goals since I’m going to be turning thirty and I’ve got big things to get done.
I always expected that by thirty I would have found a special someone to share my life with, and maybe I’d even be contemplating starting a family. I’ve watched my brothers find love, first Blake with Bec, then recently Hunter with Trudy, and I want some of that for myself. Instead, I’m unhappily single and pining after a man I can’t even call my own. Because the only man who has come close to being Mister Right has decided I don’t fit into his life plan.
In the early hours of the new year, when I’d drunk too much champagne, resolution number one—to find a man—made sense. Now I’m not so sure. All I know is I don’t want a casual relationship. The occasional hookups with Drew is enough for me to know it’s not what I want for my future. I want someone who is there for me to talk to when I get home from work, who will comfort me when I’m stressed, who will treat me like a princess at night and embrace my independence during the day.
What’s stopping me from putting myself out there and having a crack at finding a new man? It’s that I’m still hung up on last year’s man, who quite possibly could have been the one.
My other two resolutions were simpler, yet they still remain elusive. Number two was to join the gym near my place in Kensington. It’s a little predictable for a resolution, though trying to fit a workout into my busy schedule is proving challenging. And then there was number three. The one goal that I’m making progress with, because it relates to work. I need to grow Carlson Publishing in the UK and Europe to prove to myself that I deserve my place as a senior executive. Some of that growth revolves around the release of Drew’s book and the book signing tour of the UK.
Jackie has been able to finalize the dates and locations for the signings with Drew. I open the attachment to the email that just popped up on my laptop. Surprisingly, he’s even agreed to do a local morning television interview in Edinburgh. I know Drew hates putting his face out there, but he agreed to do this one if his family and I were there. More demands, but this time it was easy to agree. I planned on being there anyway.
On cue, a text from Drew pops up on my phone screen. I was expecting it because he was sent the same email confirmation from Jackie.
Drew:Just checking that you’ll be at the studio for the Edinburgh television interview on the eighteenth.
I’m learning that despite his commanding arrogance, underneath the façade is a very private man who hates being the center of attention. One who would rather hide out on an isolated coastline in Cornwall, or anywhere else for that matter, than attend a publicity event. Unfortunately, this is at odds with the profession he chose. Being an author with global success requires marketing yourself to readers.
Me:Yes, Drew. I’ll be there. It’s an early start, and I’ll be staying in the same hotel the night before.
