18. Mira
MIRA
I t had to be hormones playing tricks with my mind. That was the only reason I could come up with to explain why my nerves were a wreck the night of the gala.
This was a good night, an exciting one, something to be happy about. A triumph. Champagne flowed, and everywhere I looked, there were smiling faces. So what was my problem?
The biggest smile, of course, was worn by my husband. It wasn’t fair for a man to look as good as he did and so effortlessly. I had spent hours having my hair and nails done and working on my makeup. All he had to do was shower, shave, and put on a perfectly fitted tux.
“Are you sure you don’t want champagne?” He was slightly distracted as he turned away from the tray as a server walked past, now holding a flute in each hand. “It might look awkward if you aren’t having any.”
Since when did it matter so much? “I really don’t feel like drinking,” I murmured, remembering today’s round of morning sickness.
To my surprise, he scowled. “Nobody said you have to drink it.” He held out a flute, exchanging his scowl for a tight smile, and I took it from him.
What was his issue? He had nothing to be nervous about.
He was the man of the hour, the genius who would usher our brand into an era of unchecked prosperity.
In the hours since we had arrived in the ballroom, there had been no fewer than four toasts to him.
I had to wonder if there was enough champagne in stock to handle the toasting to come.
In a blink, his gaze softened along with his expression as he looked me over. “You’re gorgeous, by the way. Have I mentioned that tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, no,” I replied, arching an eyebrow. “I was starting to wonder if I went invisible.” I had spent ages deliberating before settling on the black, strapless McQueen gown, which Clay now eyed like he couldn’t wait to tear off me.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips over my ear, murmuring, “I have something for you, but I didn’t get the chance to give it to you before we left. Don’t stray too far.”
Interesting. I studied his face but couldn't find any answers hiding behind his baby blues. “And it’s something you can give me in mixed company?” I asked with a quirked eyebrow.
This time, his smile was sincere. He didn’t remind me so much of a jack-o’-lantern.
“Yes, it’s suitable for mixed company.” Before I could ask him what it was, Ed Johnson from Lake Tahoe waved an arm overhead, trying to get his attention.
I nodded in his direction to let Clay know he was being summoned, but once I started to follow him to where Ed waited, I realized I wasn’t part of whatever was happening.
It was in their body language, the way Ed turned toward Clay and away from me.
The message was obvious.
Well, it was his night. Not mine. It only made sense. Even if my pride stung more than I ever would have admitted. Now that Clay was firmly in place, I was yesterday’s news.
Yes, it had to be the hormones. That would explain the pressure in my chest like a whole lot of suppressed emotion might come pouring out of me at any second.
While I hadn’t yet been to the doctor, I made a point to take another test earlier tonight while I was getting ready for the gala.
I would have to tell Clay eventually, sooner rather than later.
Maybe tonight? It was my best chance of catching him in a great mood.
I looked down at the champagne flute still clutched in my hand, then left it on a table rather than risk sipping from it without thinking.
It had been two excruciating weeks since I first found out, but the idea of having a baby didn’t feel any more real.
Maybe it would later on when my body started changing when I had more time to adjust to the idea. Once my husband knew too.
My husband now spoke to a girl who held her phone out like she was recording a short interview. The way she gazed up at him…
My teeth ground together, and my hackles lifted. I really needed fresh air. My head was a mess—tonight of all nights. I did everything I could to look cheerful and sure of myself as I worked my way out of the ballroom.
It seemed like the universe was determined to stretch me to my breaking point since the last person I ever expected to see tonight sauntered my way with a glass of champagne in one hand, wearing a shit-eating grin that only made me grind my teeth harder.
Noticing what had to be my scowl, Matteo raised his brow. “That doesn’t look like happiness to see me.” He looked around us, pleasantly smiling while I wondered if anybody would notice if I killed him. I knew damn well he hadn’t been invited, so why would he be here?
I wasn’t about to demand answers while surrounded by people.
“Not here,” I gritted out, leading the way without looking behind me.
There had to be someplace where we could talk privately.
Rather than go outside, I ducked into a small room across from the ballroom and hoped like hell nobody noticed me sneaking off with a strange man.
The second he joined me in the empty room, I whirled on him. “What are you doing here?” I demanded through gritted teeth, looking over my shoulder to see whether anybody was watching from the hall.
His head snapped back, a gesture that shouldn’t have pleased me as much as it did. “Are you serious?” He sounded genuinely hurt. Stunned. How could he?
Because I had never flat-out told him to get lost. This was on me. I should’ve been clear instead of assuming he would take the hint. Some people were incapable of that. He was one of them.
After releasing a deep breath, I said, “Matteo, it’s over. In fact, it never started. Don’t you see that?” I asked while he gaped at me. “I’m sorry, I am. We should have sat down and had this talk before now but with all these distractions and everything…”
He held up his free hand and sputtered for a moment. “So you’re saying there’s nothing between us.”
Seriously? It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. “I don’t mean to be harsh,” I insisted while he scoffed. “If you had called instead of, you know, showing up uninvited?—”
“Stupid me, thinking I could come by and lend you my support.”
“I didn’t ask for your support. I’m sorry,” I added when his mouth fell open. “Everything is complicated, and I’m sorry for that too. Really, truly, I am. But to be fair,” I added. “You haven’t called me in weeks. Not since the hospital.” Where he had also shown up uninvited, come to think of it.
“I was expecting you to call me to apologize for how your husband acted,” he retorted. “Do you know how difficult that was? Being treated like yesterday’s leftovers when all I wanted was to show support to someone trapped in a sham marriage?”
I held a finger to my lips and was more sure than ever that I would have to kill him if he kept this up.
There was no question about it. I only kept him around so I could feel like I had a modicum of control over my life.
Otherwise, when I looked at him, I felt nothing but confusion as to why I had dated him at all.
“There’s a chance we could make it work. I have to try.”
“You would still rather have him? I saw him in there, you know. Puffing his chest out.” He threw his shoulders back and stuck out his chest the way he described.
“Acting like he did anything but sign his name on a marriage license. Now, he’s the big hero, the man of the hour, so everybody should get on their knees and kiss his ring.
It’s fucking pathetic, and you’re standing by and cosigning on the entire charade. I’m disappointed in you.”
“Are you finished?” I whispered, trembling with rage I didn’t dare voice, even in an otherwise empty room. “Or are you going to offer another unsolicited opinion?”
“You know what? You just can’t help some people.
I’m out.” He threw his hands into the air, backing away a little unsteadily, thanks to whatever he had drunk before getting here.
I could smell it on his breath, and it wasn’t the champagne he now downed, tossing the flute to the floor.
“Don’t come crawling back when he breaks your heart, and we both know he will. ”
“I’ll make sure not to.” He needed to go. He needed to stop reminding me of all the tiny little concerns bouncing around in the back of my mind. God knew I tried to ignore them, but some things could not be avoided.
What I wouldn’t give for a drink.
Especially thanks to the way Matteo’s words managed to work their way into my brain.
I went back to the party, back to the photographers and the employees whose faces were almost as familiar to me as my own.
They were all looking at Clay, hanging on his every word while he gave his speech.
It now touched on Papa, on the legacy we hoped to maintain while he continued to recuperate with their caring thoughts and well wishes granting him strength.
Clay had them in the palm of his hand. He was the man who was going to lead our brand into a new and exciting era where we would in no way sacrifice service but would find new ways to delight our customers.
“I mean it,” he insisted, warm and friendly but also professional.
“I want everybody to put some real thought into how we can go above and beyond, especially for the people who return time and again. You find something you know a frequent guest would like to see the next time they visit, pick it up for them. You’ll be reimbursed, believe me.
If you can’t, let someone else know, and they’ll pick it up.
Let’s keep them in mind all the time. No matter what. ”
That was my idea . I told him he could use it, but not in front of hundreds of people who, of course, burst into applause like he came up with a cure for cancer.
This was who he was. I let myself lose sight of that.
He gloried in his image, in the accolades.
I was standing where he could see me, but did he think to attribute that idea to me?
He might have come up with a way to work me into the speech, something about us meshing our professional styles the way we had enmeshed our lives.
Something personal, something to at least acknowledge my presence.
Why would he bring me up? He had everything he wanted. He had lost nothing, had sacrificed nothing. I, meanwhile, stood in the background, gently applauding my husband like the dutiful wife. I was worth more than that. Wasn’t I? When had I lost sight? Did I ever have sight in the first place?
Here I was, carrying his baby. A baby I didn’t even know whether or not he wanted.
A baby I strongly suspected he would look at like an inconvenience.
His reaction to the mere mention of kids told me everything I needed to know.
He didn’t want to be controlled—never wanted to be tied down in the first place.
I could barely breathe. My heart was ready to pound out of my chest. What the hell was wrong with me? I had to let myself get talked into this in the first place. I, had completely lost sight of myself, what I wanted, what I needed.
And I had nothing but the rest of my life to watch him soak up the praise, taking credit for my ideas without bothering to mention me.
It wasn’t childish of me to want at least a little bit of respect from the man I was starting to suspect I had fallen in love with somewhere along the line.
I must have, or why would my chest ache at the idea of not being with him?
To hell with my chest. I couldn’t continue like this. It was all wrong. Lying to these people was one thing. I had to stop lying to myself.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, turning around and gently but firmly working my way through the crowd. Forget letting him know I was leaving or why. Something told me he wouldn’t notice I was gone, anyway. Not until somebody wanted a picture of us together.
Somehow, I managed to get through, returned home, and packed a bag without crying. It wasn’t until I was behind the wheel and driving away from the city that a tear trickled down my cheek.
I held the rest back for the sake of driving safely. After all, I had more than myself to think about now. I had a baby to protect.
“Whatever it takes,” I whispered, my hands tightening around the wheel as I reflected on my longtime mantra while driving to the one location I had always felt at home.