I tugged on my cuffs, distracted and eager to get out the door. “Remind me on Monday. I’ll extend the invitation.”
“Why wait until Monday? Tell him tonight.”
I stopped in my tracks, turning toward him. “I’m not seeing Sam tonight.”
Something nudged at the back of my mind. A half-formed thought, a loose thread.
My dad took out his phone, tapping the screen a few times. “Did the dinner meeting get canceled? It’s still right here on the calendar.”
“Dinner meeting?” I took his phone from him, my stomach sinking as I read the bold letters.
Dinner. Vocellis. Sam, Drew Epstein, Don Wilde, Minnie Santos. 8 p.m.
Shit.
“That’s not where you’re heading.” Dad stepped back, giving me a long once-over. “You look good, champ. You have a date tonight?”
“I do.” I grimaced, my thoughts tangling fast. Canceling on Bea wasn’t an option. Not after she’d rearranged her schedule for me. But Sam wouldn’t be happy if I skipped the dinner, and he’d been unhappy with me a lot lately.
My father squeezed my shoulder, bringing me out of my internal spiral. “You’re losing the plot, Sal. Take a deep breath. We’ll figure this out.”
Meeting his steady gaze, I pulled in a long breath and gradually let it out. This was familiar. My father had a knack for getting me to focus. Left to my own devices, I’d have gotten overwhelmed and shut down.
“Okay.” I twisted my ring, focusing on one thought at a time. “I’ll have to figure out how to be in two places at once.”
He chuckled. “No chance of canceling the date?”
I shook my head.
That made him laugh a little harder. “Well, all right. I’m interested in hearing about the woman who’s got you in your finest duds, but we’ll talk about that later. Where are you taking her?”
“Art gallery for Maria Petridis’s opening. Then dinner, if she’s up for it.”
“Got it.” He nodded a few times. “You’ll take her to the opening, then to this dinner with Sam. Text Sam. Tell him you’ll be late. Ofcourse, it won’t be exactly what you had planned, but it’ll be fine. Adjust your mindset so you can enjoy the night. Roll with it.”
Fine. Right. Not the private, romantic evening I had in my head, but I could roll with it.
Bea hadn’t let me pick her up, stating she lived only a few blocks from the gallery, and it would be silly to drive. That was technically true. But I suspected the real reason was caution. She didn’t want to count on me. Not yet.
Which was fair. I’d given her every reason to hesitate.
But I wouldn’t let her down again.
She strode up to the gallery minutes after I arrived in heels that still boggled my mind.
Her dress moved with her as she walked, flowing along her hips and thighs and hugging her curves from her waist to her breasts.
She was beautiful, but it was her smile when she spotted me that stole my breath.
Surprised at first, almost uncertain, but as she drew closer, it crackled with sparks. Bright and electric, like a live wire dancing on the ground, throwing heat and light with reckless abandon.
I should have returned her smile. God knew the happiness bubbling inside me warranted one. But my brain had stalled.
Input from outside, inside, all around me, surged forward at once. The gleam of her hair in the streetlight. A passing car in desperate need of a new muffler. The shape of her mouth when she said my name. The dress. The temperature difference between outside andthe air conditioning escaping the building. Her perfume, faint yet distinct. The sharp clack of her heels on the sidewalk.
It wasn’t unpleasant. Just…too much. Being near her, my body registered pleasure and comfort, but my mind couldn’t prioritize what to feel first.
She deserved more than my silence. She deserved for me to tell her how beautiful she was and how happy I was to see her. But my brain was buffering, overloaded from too many commands at once.
