33. Alba
THIRTY-THREE
ALBA
I regretted agreeing to be Vaughn’s date long before I stepped through the doors into the ballroom. And when I did finally step through and recognize two dozen faces around the room, my regret ballooned into something bigger.
My steps were stiff. I wore a mask that had once been as familiar as my own face, but now it felt rigid and uncomfortable.
The remote socialite who judged people at a glance.
The flighty girl who lived off her parents’ fortune, who was trained to stand beside big, powerful men in rooms just like these.
To all these people, I was Alba Enders, rich socialite who’d been whispered about for over a year.
But I wasn’t that Alba anymore. The past year and a half had changed me.
I wore a beautiful dress and I glided in my heels, but I knew I didn’t belong in this room.
Every cell in my body screamed at me to turn around and run away.
The F-U moment of glory that Deena and I had laughed about was a lie.
I didn’t want it. I just wanted to leave.
Beside me, Vaughn exhaled, and I remembered the other reason I’d agreed to come here.
Vaughn was a good man—the best man I’d ever known—and I’d fallen fast and hard for him.
I was here to stand at his side and support him.
It was ironic that after fighting so hard against all the training my parents had put me through, I ended up doing exactly what they’d taught me to do.
I was an accessory to Vaughn’s big plans, here to make him look good.
But it felt different when I loved him. I wanted him to succeed. I was ready to endure some discomfort for his sake, because he’d done so much for me these past months. He’d made me feel like a person again. He’d reminded me that I had worth. That I deserved dignity.
So, as he stiffened beside me, clumsily grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, I steeled myself against the uneasiness flooding my senses and braced myself for a tough evening.
It would be worth it to watch Vaughn flourish.
I could endure a lot worse than this if it meant getting my happily-ever-after.
Taking one of the champagne flutes that Vaughn offered me, I filled my lungs, braced myself, and faced the people who had rejected me not too long ago.
And I realized that not all of these people had rejected me. Arlo Noble approached with his wife by his side, a broad smile on his face.
“Vaughn! You made it.”
Vaughn smiled back at the other man, and it was only because we’d spent so much time together that I noticed the slight strain around the corners of his mouth. They shook hands, and I waited patiently for my moment.
It was a familiar dance to me, waiting to be introduced like this. Arlo was well-practiced, turning to the woman at his side as soon as he and Vaughn’s hands came apart.
“My beautiful wife, Bonnie,” he said. “This is the guy I was telling you about.”
“The contractor with big dreams,” Bonnie responded, smiling as she shook Vaughn’s hand. She turned to me.
Vaughn picked up right where he was supposed to, sweeping his hand down my back. “This is—Alba.” He stumbled over the introduction, evidently not knowing what to call me. His girlfriend? His employee? His image consultant?
In the end, it didn’t matter. Bonnie and I had met several times before.
“Hi, Bonnie,” I said, nodding. “I love your dress.” It wasn’t a lie.
She wore a long gold gown that emphasized her blond hair and goddess-like proportions.
The dress flared out at the hips and shimmered under the chandeliers dangling above our heads.
Bonnie had never been catty to me. Not the way Yvette was. She was a kind woman who loved her kids and made a point to support her friends’ business ventures. Once upon a time, when Cole and I were meant to be married, I’d thought that I wouldn’t mind being her friend.
Now I braced myself for her reaction to seeing me here with Vaughn.
“Long time no see!” Bonnie said with a smile, gaze flicking between me and Vaughn. “I didn’t know you two were—I mean after—” She cleared her throat.
We both thought about the reason we hadn’t seen each other for so long. The end of my engagement to Cole. My ousting from society.
“We met at work,” I explained, which sparked curiosity in Bonnie’s gaze. It wasn’t much of an explanation; I hadn’t worked when she knew me before.
She’d just opened her mouth when a voice made us jump.
“Get out !”
The four of us turned to see a vision in black.
A tall, dark-haired woman wore a figure-hugging gown with a gorgeous off-the-shoulder neckline.
Her throat glittered with diamonds. She lifted her hands toward me, her stiletto nails painted a dark shade of red.
Nikita Blakely, née Jordan, wife of my ex-fiancé’s best friend, stared at me from a few feet away.
Fingers of both hands spread toward me, she shook her hands in my direction.
For a moment, I thought she was kicking me out and I thought, That didn’t take long .
But what came out of her mouth was a shocked, “That is not a vintage Versace dress, is it?”
Relief made me wobbly. A smile trembled at the corners of my lips. “What, this old thing?” I swished the bottom of it and laughed as the dark-haired woman gasped.
“Claudia Schiffer. The Academy Awards in…I want to say 1994?”
“Close,” I replied, grinning. “’95.”
“Replica?”
“Vaughn’s tailor used to work in the Versace workrooms, apparently,” I said, patting my man’s arm as I wiggled my brows. “It’s the real deal.”
“Hold on,” Nikki said, putting her hand to her forehead. “I’m about to die of envy. I need a minute.”
Bonnie laughed. “We’re going to need to know the name of Vaughn’s tailor.”
“I’ll take it to my grave,” I teased.
“The color is divine on you,” Nikki said, reaching forward to feel the fabric of the skirt between her fingertips. “It wouldn’t work on me. Well…” She frowned, humming. “No, it really wouldn’t.”
I laughed. “I’ll let you try it on sometime.”
Nikki brightened. “ No . Really?”
I shrugged. “Sure.” Smiling, I glanced at Vaughn, whose eyebrow twitched. I gave him a look that said, See? I told you it wasn’t just a dress . And he grinned back at me like he’d known all along.
This wouldn’t be so bad. Bonnie and Nikki weren’t treating me like an outcast—and why had I worried they would?
My parents weren’t good people. James and Yvette weren’t either.
But not everyone in this room was awful.
Maybe this wouldn’t be a big middle finger of an evening to all of them, a splash and a goodbye.
Maybe it would be a beginning.
“Babe,” Nikki mock-complained as she glanced over my shoulder, “why have you never surprised me with a vintage Versace dress worn by one of the world’s most famous supermodels?”
The false sense of ease that had begun to trickle through me turned cold. I stilled, spine stiffening.
The man behind me said, “I’m always looking for birthday ideas,” and came into view beside me. Rome Blakely, advertising guru extraordinaire, crossed to where Nikki was still admiring my dress and wrapped an arm around her waist.
But it wasn’t him that I’d sensed. It was the other man who joined our circle. Tall and dark-haired, Cole Christianson was as handsome as I’d remembered.
And he was with his new wife.
I nodded at my ex. “Cole.”
“Alba,” he said, gaze flicking to Vaughn.
“This is Vaughn,” I said. “Vaughn, Cole.”
Recognition flared in Vaughn’s gaze at the name, and after a brief hesitation, he stuck out his hand to shake my ex-fiancé’s.
Meanwhile, Cole’s wife clung to his other side and tilted her head at me.
We’d met a couple of times, and now we studied each other silently.
She wore a black dress and carried a gold clutch.
In her ears, little gold earrings with dangling birds swung with her every movement.
“This is Carrie,” Cole said, then cleared his throat. “Carrie, you remember Alba?”
I knew my smile looked stilted and forced. I knew I was completely failing at keeping my mask on, but I hadn’t really expected to run into my ex within minutes of walking into the room.
I thought I’d been ready to be here, but now I wasn’t so sure.
When I’d met Carrie, she’d been one of the many people in Cole’s assistant pool, and I’d known—I’d known —there was something between them. It was in the air when they were in the room together. Electricity, snapping between them, static raising the hair on my arms.
I hadn’t known their history—but then again, I hadn’t needed to know.
It was right there in every look they shared.
Every touch they tried to avoid. Cole had been a good fiancé to me.
He hadn’t betrayed me. He’d simply treated me the way everyone else did: like I was replaceable.
I was the one who’d had an affair. If not a physical one, it was at the very least emotional.
I fell in love with another man, and I hit the eject button on our relationship as soon as I got the chance.
I hadn’t expected to feel pain at the sight of Cole. We’d never loved each other—not really. But he had been such a big part of my life at that time. He represented The Right Way of Doing Things. Marrying him was what I’d been supposed to do.
And now I was reminded of how easily our relationship had broken down and the fall from grace that came afterward. I couldn’t help the tightness in my lungs, the cold sweat that broke out between my shoulder blades.
Then—warmth.
Vaughn’s palm swept down my back, over my upper spine, and then coasted down the glittering lavender fabric of my dress. He slid his hand around my waist and pulled me close. My shoulders relaxed, and I managed a smile. A real one.
“You look beautiful,” I said to Carrie. I nodded to the ring on her finger. “Congratulations.”
Carrie’s smile was tentative, but it seemed genuine. She and Cole shared a look. The expression on Cole’s face was one I’d never seen before. It was tender and so full of love that seeing it made me feel like I was intruding on a private moment. I glanced away and found Vaughn staring down at me.
His fingers tightened on my waist. “You okay?” he murmured.
I exhaled and reached up to straighten his white necktie. “Yes,” I told him. “Thank you.”
He held my gaze for just a moment, then dipped down and gave me a quick, soft kiss.
Then he straightened, his arm still holding me firmly at his side.
That one kiss was healing. It lasted only a moment, but it was enough to make me forget about the tension of my engagement to Cole, the fear that it would all fall apart—and then the horror when it actually did.
Cole and I would never be friends, but that was okay.
He didn’t seem to have any hard feelings for me; he had bigger things to worry about.
And he hadn’t batted an eye at my being here, in this room, with another man.
I wasn’t an outcast to these people. I relaxed into his touch, a jagged wound in my heart beginning to knit itself together.
At that moment, my eyes met Cole’s. His gaze skimmed over Vaughn’s arm, and his lips curled into a kind smile. “It’s good to see you, Alba.”
I smiled back at him, leaning into Vaughn. “Same.”
“You look happy,” he added, and glanced at Carrie. She smiled at him, and his own smile grew before he turned back to look at me. “That makes me glad.”
They were simple words, delivered genuinely, and I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.
I hadn’t known that I’d wanted or needed Cole’s forgiveness.
But he was giving it to me now, and that wound in my heart scabbed over a little bit more.
Throat tight, I nodded. “Congrats to you two again.”
We said our goodbyes. I watched Carrie and Cole drift off together, and I felt like I’d just passed the first hurdle.
It was overwhelming. These people, this event—it was like revisiting an old version of myself.
A stranger. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to stand up here as the new me, facing all the mistakes of my past—even if they seemed to be forgiven.
I took a sip of champagne from the glass I still held, but even the taste of it on my tongue made me dizzy. “I need to duck to the washroom,” I murmured to Vaughn, who nodded, concern drawing his brows together.
A waiter took my glass, and I wove my way through the crowd, shaking off the jitters of my first interaction.
The hallway to the washrooms loomed up ahead, and I kept my eyes on it as I crossed the ballroom.
I needed the relative privacy of a stall of my own to compose myself again so I could be the woman Vaughn needed me to be for the rest of the evening.
So I could brace myself for other interactions that might not go as smoothly as that one.
Then I heard my name—and I recognized the voice.