39. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
Avery
I make my way back to the table and allow my mother and Cass to hug me before taking my seat. I’ve told a version of that story every year to a roomful of mostly strangers for almost a decade. But it doesn’t get any easier. I hate reliving the trauma of losing my father, losing my autonomy, losing part of myself. But I do it every year because it helps so many people. I can’ t deny the good that this gala does for families who don’t have the same resources as mine. It would be selfish not to use my reach to help them, especially after I got another chance. I take a few deep breaths and try to ignore the eyes still on me. They’ll go back to their meals and the open bar soon enough and forget about the girl on the stage. Hopefully after they open their wallets.
“You did great, A,” Cass whispers, squeezing my hand.
“Thanks.”
I manage to eat a few bites to appease my mother’s worried looks before the servers take our plates and refill our glasses. I’ve mostly avoided drinking the wine tonight, trying to keep my wits for the speech. Now that it’s done, I decide to give in. Maybe it’ll help me forget the crushing heartache I’ve been feeling since I left Corbin last night.
I do my best to listen to the conversation around me, chiming in occasionally so I don’t draw attention to myself. It’s something I’ve done all my life, so it’s not that difficult. Cass sticks by my side the whole time and pulls the attention off me when she can tell it’s getting to be too much. I’m beyond grateful for her presence tonight. If I’m going to be nursing a broken heart in public, there’s no one else I’d rather have helping me through it.
I’m sipping my second glass of white wine and trying to decide how early is too early to leave my own party when my gaze catches on a familiar pair of broad shoulders. My heart stutters in my chest and I suck in a startled breath. Cass turns to look at me, but I can’t look away from the man standing before me. Corbin.
How is he here?
Why is he here?
Why does he look so damned good?
Before I can come up with answers for any of those questions, I feel Cass go stiff beside me.
“Oh, hell no,” she mutters. “I’ll take care of this.”
She moves to intercept him, but I reach for her, grabbing her arm to stop her.
“Wait.”
“A, you don’t have to talk to him,” she says.
She’s right, I know. I don’t have to talk to him. I probably shouldn’t talk to him. Not here, at least. But I’m stuck on the fact that he’s here. He came all this way. To see me. There’s no other reason he would have come here. He came here for me. So, no matter how much my head is telling me to walk away, my heart won’t let me.
“I want to,” I whisper. “Just stay with me?”
She locks her arm through mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I watch as Corbin closes the distance between us, my heart pounding so loudly I wonder if everyone else can hear it. When he finally stops in front of me, I’m speechless. His dark eyes rake over my body and finally settle on my face.
“Can we help you?” Cass says, her icy tone breaking the silence .
Corbin turns to look at her as if just noticing her presence. “Hey, Cass,” he says. “Good to see you again.”
She huffs out a humorless laugh. “Can’t say the same about you.”
He dips his head once as if acknowledging her point. “That’s fair,” he says. Turning his gaze back on me, he says, “Can we talk?”
“No one’s stopping you,” I say. I’m proud that my words come out steady and clear.
His shoulders drop slightly, but he doesn’t look surprised by my lack of welcome. “I deserve that,” he says.
“What are you doing here?"
"I came here to tell you that I’m sorry,” he says, catching me off-guard with his vulnerable honesty.
If I thought I was shocked at the sight of Corbin here, among all the glitz and glamour of my family’s trappings, it’s nothing compared to the shock of hearing him apologize. I don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because he’s talking again.
“I shouldn’t have blown up at you the way I did,” he says. “I should have listened to you. I should have tried to understand. You deserve better than that.”
Realizing that I forgot to breathe, I force myself to pull in a deep breath and release it. I don’t know what to say. This Corbin feels like a different man than the one I left last night. What happened between then and now to bring about this change?
“I get why you had to come here tonight,” he says. “I know you have obligations. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now. I wish I had given you the chance to explain it. It’s my fault everything got messed up. I’m sorry.”
"We know," Cass mutters.
I give her hand a little squeeze to silence her, but Corbin doesn't seem bothered by her words. He keeps his gaze on me, an expression I don’t recognize on his face. It’s not the sympathetic look I’ve seen so many times before when someone hears my story for the first time. It’s something else. Something like awe.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, making something in my chest clench almost painfully.
“I’m the same person I was before tonight,” I say.
“That’s true,” he says, taking my hand in both of his, holding tightly as he looks in my eyes. “I was wrong about so many things when it came to us. I’m hoping you’ll let me find a way to fix it. I’m sorry I interrupted your night.”
Abruptly, Corbin releases my hand and strides away, leaving me standing there stunned speechless as I watch him go. It takes me a few seconds to realize there’s something in my hand. A folded piece of paper. He must have pressed it into my hand when he was gripping it so tightly. I hadn’t even noticed. Slowly, I tear my gaze away from the spot where he disappeared into the crowd when I realize he’s not going to reappear. Looking down at the paper in my hand, I can see that it’s heavily creased as if it’s been unfolded and refolded many times. It’s not until the entire paper is unfolded and I see the familiar lines of my own work that I realize it’s one of my sketches .
It’s just a doodle, really. I try to remember when I might have drawn it, but there’s just a vague memory of those early days of working in the shop. There had been some down time and Jessie teased Corbin about something, making him laugh. It was the first time I’d seen him relaxed and the first time he’d laughed around me. I wanted to capture that laugh and hold onto it for all the times when he was serious or scowling. It was like a piece of tangible proof that Corbin was more than the unyielding man he showed the rest of the world.
So, I grabbed the nearest pen and a piece of paper and started sketching Corbin's smiling face. No one paid me any attention as I’d worked. It only took me a few minutes to draw the rough sketch. It wasn’t even my best work, honestly. When I finished, I was embarrassed and afraid someone would see it and read more into the drawing than it meant. So, I hid it under my sketchbook, intending to toss it into the trash later when no one was looking. But Corbin must have seen it. He must have kept it. Why? Why did he keep it for all these months? That was back when he was still barely speaking to me. Before that night in the studio when he’d lost control. Why does he still have it? And why did he come all the way here tonight to give it to me?
“What is it?” Cass asks. I’d almost forgotten she was here.
I hand her the paper. “One of my drawings,” I say. “He kept it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
I fight back the tears that threaten, feeling suddenly drained. I want to leave. I want to chase after Corbin and demand he tell me what this means. But then I remember all the times he shut down or pushed me away whenever things got remotely serious. All the times he snarled at me for asking questions he wasn’t ready to answer. All the little ways he showed me that I was wrong about what we could be. I don’t want to go through that again tonight. I don’t think I have the strength to face that rejection again right now.