“Later, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Ryan. Don’t make it obvious, but he’s at the table to my right. Brown messy hair and the bluest eyes on the planet.” She cooed like a girl in love.
I glanced in the direction, trying to be as subtle as possible. “He’s looking over here.”
She turned in the direction.
He gave her an adoring grin and nodded at her.
She sighed. “He has the longest lashes, ones I wish I had.”
I moved wispy strands of her hair off her face. “I’m sure he says similar things about you.”
Any boy would be lucky to have Fran and not because of her long blond hair or sea-green eyes that sucked a person in. She was super-intelligent. Fran McCauley was going places.
Her bubbly friend, Nora, asked, “Fran, did your dad say yes to Italy?”
Fran squealed. “He did.” The two started chatting excitedly about what they wanted to do in Italy.
I couldn’t help but feel a gut-wrenching pang of jealousy. I’d never had what Fran had. At seventeen, I was living as a sex slave in a cage in the middle of nowhere and being tortured night after night.
Don’t go there, Grace.
I bounced my knee, thinking of something good but not in time to prevent the tears from surfacing.
A gentle hand landed on my shoulder before Brian slid into the empty chair beside me and leaned close to my ear. “Thank you for distracting Fran.” He smelled of citrus and spice, warm and inviting, and I longed to have his strong arms wrapped around me.
I felt sick all of a sudden, partly from not eating anything today. Now that my past was making an appearance, I needed a moment to collect myself.
“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room.” I rose on shaky legs, feeling like someone was choking the air out of me.
I’d been doing so well until now. That sense that someone was watching me had waned a bit, but I’d been sideswiped by the combination of all the goodness around me tonight, Fran’s happiness, and the thought of the things I probably could’ve had as a teenager.
With my cell in my hand, I hurried around tables, dodging waiters carrying trays, and rushed out into the hall, clutching my chest, searching for the restroom. A panic attack was about to rain on my parade.
Spotting the sign for bathrooms, I walked quickly down a carpeted hallway, passing plaques and trophy cases.
As I turned the corner, I bumped into a hard chest, and my phone dropped from my hand before I stumbled backward.
The young stranger with dark eyes caught me. “I am so very sorry. I didn’t see you.”
I smoothed my hands down my dress. “My fault.”
He bent down, picked up my phone, and gave me an apologetic grin. “Are you okay? You seem rattled.” His honey-toned voice was soothing.
“Just having a bad night.” I took my cell from him, my gaze landing on his antique gold college ring with an onyx gemstone.
He appeared to be in his early twenties. I studied him for a long beat, my mind going to places it shouldn’t, and that panic attack that teetered on the edge ramped up.
Sweat coated my skin. My palms were sweaty, and I was trembling.
John’s son, Zane, would be twenty-three, and he would have dark hair and eyes.
I studied him as though I were dissecting a squid in biology class. College Boy had dark hair styled perfectly and shorn around the ears. His brown eyes weren’t cold and calculating like John’s had been.
“Miss?”
I blinked several times. “Nice ring.”
“Oh,” he said. “Thanks, I graduated last year from Boston College.”
