CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
I turned and walked as fast as I could to the bar.
I couldn’t handle this, and I didn’t want him to see the emotion on my face and think I was pathetic.
I was afraid he’d be able to see that I’d never stopped having feelings for him.
I asked for a glass of chardonnay, preferring it to the champagne being freely passed around on trays.
I grabbed it and gulped it down in four long swallows, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Not exactly elegant ballerina behavior. But I didn’t care.
“Another, please?” I asked the shocked bartender.
A few of the wealthy donors standing around me dispersed, and I could hear them whispering as they walked away. No doubt there would be rumors of my alcohol dependence posted to the Moonlight’s Facebook page by the morning, if not before.
I took a few sips of the next glass, gave the bartender a smile, and turned to face the ballroom, glad to have the meeting with Edward over with.
Except he was standing about five feet away from me. And he was staring at me, his hands in his pockets.
“What the hell?” I mumbled.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” the bartender asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” I smiled at him and moved away from the bar. And away from Edward. He’d get the message any minute now.
Right?
I looked around for help, but Nora was still talking to her ‘boyfriend’ du jour, the off-putting Eric Hightower.
I certainly didn’t want to join their conversation.
I could catch Monty Hart’s eye easily, but I was honestly trying to avoid him as well.
Ever since I’d gone on one date with him four years ago when I was in college, he’d seemed a bit overly interested in me.
I never wanted to do anything to encourage that interest, that was for sure.
I shouldn’t have come tonight. My director would have understood my absence if I’d explained it. I’d mistakenly thought I was sophisticated and grown up enough to just say hello to Edward and that be it.
That was not what was happening.
In all fairness, I hadn’t known he was going to chase me around the Harts’ ball room.
I hurried to a corner of the room that few people knew about.
It was a glassed in area that stretched along the back of the house.
It extended out from the main room almost like a hallway, but it was actually a bigger area than it appeared to be.
It offered marvelous views of the Harts’ extensive gardens down below the house.
And the back wall was lined with elegant, but comfy sofas.
I’d hide here and drink my wine, then I’d call a ride share service and leave as quickly as possible.
At least that was my plan.
“Why are you hiding in here?”
“Oh good gravy,” I almost shouted, as I jumped and sloshed wine over the edge of my glass.
“Sorry,” Edward said looking instantly contrite as I leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Why are you back here? Nobody comes back here,” I said, almost to myself. “Would you please quit following me? I don’t know if you didn’t catch on to this, but I’m not pleased to see you, Edward,” I hissed.
He grimaced and looked down. “I understand.”
“So why are you…”
“I wanted to talk to you. You have no idea how many times I wished I could go back and change the things that happened between us.” I saw his jaw clench before he said, “I was hoping we could be friends.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Because the ‘things that happened to us’ were preventable. You treated me like crap at your dad’s funeral, proceeded to sleep with the very woman you assured me I didn’t need to worry about, and then sent me a text telling me you loved me, hoped we’d end up together, but that you just wanted to be friends.
Of course, you sent that after you’d already screwed your new girl.
Sorry, Edward. I don’t want a friend like that.
” I pushed past him to get out of the narrow space. “Excuse me.”
This time it was his words that made me stop. “At least you’re being honest this time.”
I stopped in my tracks and looked at him over my shoulder. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He calmly took another sip of his drink. “It’s just that the last time we were together you told me you wanted to be friends. But then you packed a bag and left town without another word to me.”
I turned towards him again. “You’re not comparing me saying whatever you needed to hear for me to get away from you that night to what you did. Right?”
He shrugged. “It hurt.”
He was unbelievable. “Right. That hurt you. Jeez. I’m so sorry. It was probably way worse than you sleeping with the girl who hit on you right in front of me. The girl you assured me couldn’t hold a candle to me. The girl you were with a few weeks after you told me I was the love of your life.”
“It wasn’t like that… I tried to explain that summer…”
“Good explanation. You went from sleeping with the girl you told me you had no interest in to being in a relationship with her after you told me you couldn’t handle a relationship. It was awesome to hear that,” I said sarcastically and started walking away again.
“Cara,” he said, in his deep voice that still haunted my dreams. It made me stop in my tracks and turn to see what he had to say.
“I fucked up. Terribly. What happened between you and me is the greatest regret of my life. I’ve never gotten over you.” His blue eyes locked on mine, and I could see the truth in them. He was serious.
I studied him. He was being open and vulnerable, putting himself out there. “You’ve… never gotten over me?”
He shook his head. “Not even a little bit.” He paused before asking, “Do you ever think of me?”
Here’s where I should lie. Here’s where I should say that I barely even remember him, that I never think of him at all. I should make him feel as small and forgettable as he made me feel all those years ago.
But as I looked at him, standing before me in a ridiculously small tuxedo that looked as if the jacket had three-quarter-length sleeves, I couldn’t dash the hope I saw in his bright blue eyes.
I regarded him for a moment more. “Does your hair still turn blond in the summer?”
He almost spit his drink out. “We haven’t seen each other in more than half a decade, I’m pouring out my heart to you, and that’s what you want to know? About my hair?”
I nodded.
“Um, well, yeah. It does, I guess.” He ran a hand through his thick, sandy blond hair. “It is now, probably. Can’t you tell?”
I couldn’t hide my smile. “It must already have started turning brown for the fall,” I lied.
He had a bewildered smile on his face. “Is that… bad? Like, if you were going to agree to go to dinner with me so we could talk some more, would you be less likely to go if my hair was closer to brown than blond?”
“Definitely,” I vigorously nodded my head, and he burst out laughing. The sound was infectious, making me laugh, too, and I remembered then how much I’d enjoyed being silly with him over the years.
Our laughter slowly died as we stared at each other there in the hidden alcove of the Harts’ ballroom. “Come to dinner with me,” he urged.
“Now?” I asked incredulously.
“No,” he grinned. “But I’d love to see you dance tomorrow night and then take you out.”
I thought about it for long enough, I could see the look of hope vanishing from his face.
I was about to say no. But then I thought of all those summers and the laughter, fun, and happiness we’d shared.
And I felt my cheeks turn pink as I remembered those long summer nights where he’d given me more pleasure than anyone ever had before or since.
But I didn’t think I could get over what came later.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I just don’t think I can get past what happened after your father died. Do you understand?”
He nodded slowly, regret written all over that handsome face. “I wish I could make it right,” he whispered.
“It would be nice to have a blank slate. To pretend that we were meeting each other for the first time tonight.”
His face grew very serious as he looked down at me, the height difference between us obvious even though I was wearing my highest heels.
“But I would never want to erase all the good parts,” he said.
“Most of the memories I have with you are the happiest, best times of my life.” He paused.
“It’s only the last parts I’d change—from the time Dad passed away until the last time I saw you.
That’s what I wish was just a bad dream. ”
I searched his face. He was being truthful with me. I felt it in my bones. “I feel the same way,” I admitted.
“Then let me try to fix it,” he urged. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
I wavered for a moment before going against my better judgment. “Alright.”
His eyes widened a little. “Yes? You’re saying yes?”
I gave him a slow nod. “I have to admit that I’ve missed you. I don’t go home often, but when I do it’s usually in the summer. It always feels… incomplete. Like there’s something missing.” I shrugged. “I think it’s you.”
His smile was sweet as he looked at me but then turned a little wolfish as his gaze raked over my body.
I would put a stop to any of those thoughts he was having. I had to protect my heart. “I’ll go out with you as friends. Nothing else.”
A look of disappointment crossed his handsome face, but he quickly recovered. “That sounds great,” he said. “Even though I won’t lie. I’d hoped for the possibility of more.”
He moved closer to me and tucked a long strand of hair behind my ear. I sucked in a breath as a bolt of electricity seemed to pass through me at his touch. “Hey,” I said, stepping away from him, “you’re lucky I’m going to dinner with you at all.”
“You’re right, but why?” he looked amused.