Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Stella
“Have I got lipstick on my teeth?” I asked, bearing my mouth at him as we made it into the lobby of the Berkeley.
Karen was always so perfectly turned out—even first thing in the morning, with a hangover, she was a coat of mascara and a pair of heels away from hosting a charity lunch.
Whereas I always had loo paper stuck to my heel or had a button ping off just before the most crucial career moment.
Tonight, I wanted to look like I had it together.
I wanted people to see me and think Matt was an idiot for letting me go rather than think that the situation was messy but understandable given it was an obvious choice between Karen and me.
This evening I didn’t want to feel like the jilted ex.
I wanted to feel pretty. And glamorous. And sexy.
I wanted to feel like a woman that men didn’t cheat on. That men married.
Beck slid his hand into mine and my stomach tilted like a giddy ten-year-old in her mother’s heels, and for a moment I forgot that I was about to come face-to-face with Matt and Karen.
It had been a while since a man had touched me like a lover.
Looking back, I couldn’t remember the last time Matt had held my hand.
And Beck was ridiculously handsome. The kind of good looking that made me look away because it was just too much.
“You look fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. “Now let’s go see your friends.”
I gazed at him as he led us down the long corridor. Had he meant that, or was he just trying to halt my rising anxiety about this evening in its tracks? Because he wrote the book on gorgeous.
He was walking with intent, but I hadn’t seen any signs to the ballroom. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“The email you sent me said the ballroom. It’s right along here.”
“You’ve been here before?” Were these kinds of parties in five-star hotels what he was used to? Did he enjoy them? What kind of wine did he drink?
So many questions.
“Yeah, a few times. You know, charity dinners. Industry drinks.”
“I really don’t know anything about you.” Tonight had disaster written all over it. We’d just have to show our faces and then make a speedy exit.
Beck squeezed my hand as my friend Jo came toward us, her eyes sliding from me to Beck and then back to me, slightly wider than they were before.
“I’m so pleased you came,” she said and pulled me in for a hug. “You’re an amazing human being.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I was thinking.”
“You’re here, that’s what counts. And you look completely amazing.” She stepped back to examine me. “What a super sexy look.”
“It’s not really me, is it?”
“It’s completely you. It’s understated, elegant, and confidently sexy just like you are.”
My anxiety stepped down a couple of notches and my shoulders relaxed. Jo turned to Beck. “I’m Jo Frammer.”
God, between my panic about not knowing enough about Beck, my apprehension about my outfit, and my anxiety about seeing Karen and Matt, I’d completely forgotten to make introductions. I needed to focus.
“Beck Wilde,” he said, dipping to kiss Jo on both cheeks.
“It’s wonderful to meet you. I want to hear all about you two,” she said, turning and leading us into the party. “Someone’s been keeping secrets. Tell me everything immediately. How long has this been going on?”
I’d factored in lying to Karen and Matt, but I hadn’t really thought about the fact I’d have to lie to my friends—people I loved—about Beck. Jo didn’t deserve me lying to her, even though she’d be completely understanding and sweet if she found out.
I was a horrible person. There was no way I was going to be able to pull this off. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if it was too late to fake a vomiting bug. But that would be a lie, too—I was surrounded by them.
“Depends on if you mean when we first met or when we started dating. Our first social dinner was a couple of months ago?” Beck turned to me for confirmation. I just nodded.
“Wow, you have been playing your cards close to your chest,” Jo responded. “I’ve not seen anything on Facebook or Insta.”
Shit. Social media. I hadn’t thought about documenting anything on there, but before I could say anything, Beck interjected. “Yeah, I don’t do social media. Unless it’s business-related.”
“Oh I see,” Jo replied. “I’ve heard about people like you, but I thought you were like the Loch Ness monster or a yeti—just a myth.”
“Don’t have Instagram, yet I’m still breathing,” he said. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Rather than being amazing, it just means you’re old,” I replied.
“Or far more interested in being with you than online.” He fixed me with those deep, green eyes and those walls that appeared when we first met were back—locking everyone else out, leaving just Beck and me, alone, staring at each other as if we’d known each other a thousand lifetimes and didn’t need words to communicate.
Jo cleared her throat, bringing us back to the moment. “The party’s in here,” she said, nodding toward double doors.
I glanced around the ballroom as we entered.
A cacophony of sparkling lights, pastel colors, and the strains of a string quartet surrounded us, and my breath caught in my throat.
It was beautiful. A huge arrangement of lilacs and summer flowers hung from the ceiling, drooping down over the central bar designed out of mirrors and glass.
More flowers hung around the sides of the room, bringing the outside in and filling the space with a light, floral scent.
This wasn’t Matt’s choice. His family would have opted for something far more traditional at the family home.
No, this was Karen all over—expensive but tasteful.
I guessed it was good Matt had learned to compromise.
He’d always been so stubborn when we’d been together, but why hadn’t he learned to compromise for me?
Chatter, clinking glasses, and laughter swept through the space. I was probably the only person in this room who wasn’t happy for Karen and Matt. The only person who, when it was said that they were perfectly suited, agreed, but only because they were both cheating, disloyal, despicable people.
“Are Florence and Gordy here?” I asked. If Beck and I got talking to them, it might save us from having to make conversation with people who asked too many questions.
“I haven’t seen them yet,” Jo replied.
We settled at a ridiculously thin, tall table that people were supposed to stand around and rest their drinks on. “Stay here, and I’ll go and get some drinks,” Beck said.
He was going to leave me? I’d thought his suggestion of making sure we were together most of the night was a good one.
What happened if he bumped into someone and told them a thousand things about our relationship that I had no idea about?
Or if Matt and Karen appeared and Beck wasn’t by my side to make me seem less of the bitter ex-girlfriend than I felt.
As I surveyed the room, looking for Florence and Gordy, Karen walked straight into my eyeline as she came toward our table. My vision blurred slightly, and I held onto the edge of the table to steady myself. Jesus, she could have at least let me settle in and find my sea legs.
This was the woman who’d stolen my boyfriend, my lover, my friend.
Or the woman my boyfriend had left me for.
I wasn’t sure which was worse.
I tried to look at her like a stranger would—what was it about her that made him throw away seven years?
Was she prettier, funnier, better in bed?
Did he just love her more?
She squealed as she got closer. “I’m so pleased you’re here,” she said, pulling me into a hug as if nothing had happened.
I’d tried to prepare myself for this moment, but I hadn’t come up with a game plan.
I could be so nice that I was clearly being sarcastic.
I could be cool but distant. I could ignore her, or I could tell her what I thought of her.
Except the last option probably would have our invitation revoked so that wasn’t really an option.
I’d decided to do just what felt right in the moment, but I found myself paralyzed with anger, fear, and a lack of understanding.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it,” Karen said. “I know you RSVP’d and everything but honestly, I expected you to come down with stomach flu or something.”
I put on my best fake smile. She was saying she expected me to lie.
I guess she was judging me by her own standards.
“My stomach is just fine.” Not only did she have a complete lack of remorse, she also couldn’t even be nice to me.
She’d stolen my boyfriend and now she was acting as if he was hers all along. Maybe he had been.
Perhaps she was embarrassed and hoping that we’d all forget about it. Because that was so easy to do when you’d lost the love of your life to your best friend.
She laughed and glanced at my cleavage. “Well, I’m so pleased it is. And did you bring your . . . date or whatever?”
“Oh, she certainly did,” Jo replied for me. “He’s over there by the bar. The tall, good-looking one.”
I couldn’t help but grin at Jo’s description as we all looked to the bar.
There was no doubt Beck was tall. And good looking.
A description that didn’t do him justice.
He was one of those men that commanded a double take when you passed him on the street.
He was pretty enough to look like a male model but the way he carried off that suit—or any of the suits I’d seen him in—gave him power.
The three of us were staring as he started back, carrying an ice bucket and glasses.
I locked eyes with him and the tightness in my jaw disappeared.
There was something about him that made it feel like I’d known him forever.
He grinned and it seemed so genuine that I felt it from deep in my bones to the tips of my fingers.
“Oh wow, that’s the look of love,” Jo said from beside me.
If only she knew.
“Ladies,” he said as he placed the ice bucket on the table.