8. CHAPTER 8
Zuri
The grand banquet hall unfolds before us as Jeremy and I step through its towering doors, and the two security guards at the entrance offer warm smiles when he greets them by name. Above, chandeliers twinkle like stars, casting a golden glow over the room. Meanwhile, the murmur of conversations softens the air, punctuated by the delicate chime of glassware as servers dressed in black glide between elegantly attired guests.
In this sea of tuxedos and flowing gowns, I’m grateful I took my friends’ advice to pay a tad extra for my dress. With each step, the hem caresses my ankles. Its softness, though, contrasts my firm grip on Jeremy’s arm. I seldom attend parties, especially fancy ones. This is a first for me, but I feel confident because that’s the definition of my date.
Jeremy, the epitome of grace and confidence, moves us through the crowd with a charm that seems as natural to him as breathing. When we approach a man smiling at him, Jeremy introduces his boss. Just like every man in the room, this one’s dressed in a dark suit and crisp white shirt. He’s probably five years older than Jeremy, quite young to be the CEO of a reputable financial company. “My girlfriend, Zuri,” Jeremy says as calmly as if he’s done this fake thing before.
“You can call me Logan.” Logan extends his hand, his grip firm, his eyes kind. “I’m glad you could join us today.”
“Jeremy was kind enough to extend the invitation.”
“I hope he can bring you to our next game night.” Logan then explains the bimonthly dinner he and his wife host for the company executives.
“As long as she’s not busy.” Jeremy winks at me, and my knees go weak. If he invites me and I have no commitments, yes, please!
Someone joins us, apologizing for the interference, before he requests Logan’s presence somewhere else.
With a promise to see each other soon, Logan leaves us, and we move further, though pausing frequently as Jeremy encounters acquaintances. Each introduction brings polite smiles and handshakes. My smile in place, I try to anchor names to faces, a daunting task, but at least, I recognize a few from the party at our house.
As we approach a particular table, a figure cuts through the crowd, his approach swift, his smile wide and inviting. “Jeremy, my goodness!” he exclaims, his gaze shifting to me with a tangible energy. “This must be Zuri Blackwood.”
“The one and only.” Jeremy rests his hand on my back again. “Why so early today? What happened to coming late and having heads turning?”
“Had to get here to watch you and Zuri walk in.” The man winks at Jeremy before glancing at me. Then he leans in to kiss my left cheek and then my right as if we’ve known each other forever. He steps back. “Nico Marino.”
“Nico works with Lexi,” Jeremy says.
“I’m her boss or colleague.” Nico shrugs, his Italian accent adding an appealing lilt. “Whatever she calls it.”
So, this is Lexi’s boss.
Nico says how happy he is that Jeremy’s lucky enough to have a date who could agree to come with him to the biggest company event of the year.
“Keep your eyes open tonight.” Jeremy cuffs his friend’s arm. “This might be your night.”
Nico lets out a laugh. “This is not the place for entanglement.”
As more people roll in, the evening grows livelier, and the soft strains of music and the steady rise of conversations create a backdrop to our interactions.
Servers weave around passing trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. I decline when one is presented to me. The server doesn’t interfere with Nico and Jeremy, aware of their relaxed banter, heads tilted back as they laugh about something.
Jeremy places a hand on my back, a reminder he hasn’t forgotten me.
It could be my personal preference, but he stands apart in the room, his allure unmatched. Yet, Nico, with his lean frame, casually styled dark-brown hair, and striking features, commands his share of attention. Stone Financial Enterprises has some nice-looking men, my brother included.
The microphone’s sharp crackle breaks through the buzz, and someone announces, “Food’s ready.”
Jeremy and Nico’s conversation stops, and a shiver runs through me when Jeremy leans in close and whispers, “I’m sorry I ignored you.” His breath, a ghostly caress, sends goose bumps skittering up my bare skin.
“You weren’t ignoring me.” My voice holds steady despite the whirlwind inside me. “You’ve been right here with me the whole time.”
He leads us to a table at the front, offering a clear view of the musicians. A woman plays the violin passionately from the corner. Jeremy pulls out my chair.
“Thanks.” I slide into it, and he nods.
Glancing over my shoulder, I sight Lexi, Olivia, and Damien a few tables away. Lexi catches my eye and waves, her enthusiasm shining through the crowded room. I wave back, and she raises her thumb at me.
As our table for six fills with newcomers, including Nico, Logan, and his wife, an energetic buzz enlivens the banquet hall. The buffet offers plenty of choices. Steak, chicken, fish, and a variety of appealing sides. The rich scents of gourmet food are enticing. Soon, I savor each bite while lively conversations and laughter weave around me, and the sound of silverware against plates plays a duet with that violinist. The table hums with stories and discussions, especially as Jeremy, Nico, Logan, and a more reserved gentleman find common ground.
Seated next to Jeremy, with Serafina, the CEO’s wife, on my other side, I’m caught in conversation with someone new. Despite the hint of her pregnancy, I avoid personal comments, focusing on safer topics.
“I didn’t realize Jeremy had a girlfriend until today.” Serafina nudges her salad aside. Her bright eyes reflect her keen interest in Jeremy’s personal life. “At the bimonthly dinners and game nights, they all talk about personal relationships, but not Jeremy.”
At her unmistakable enthusiasm, I wince and halt in the middle of slicing into my steak. I’d better temper her expectations. “Jeremy and I are still figuring things out.”
“He seems really into you.”
When she nods toward him, I turn his way, his gaze finds mine, and I get it. I think he keeps stealing glances at me. My heart starts to thump, and I look away, then back to Serafina. Keeping my café’s financial backing a secret from her is probably a good idea. I doubt he wants his whole company to know about his fake relationship. So I switch the topic to how we met. “It was sort of my brother’s party, but I needed to showcase my recipes. I’m reopening the café downstairs under new management in April.”
“You’re a cook too? My bestie, Vanessa, is a chef. She turned to cooking to honor her late mother and has catered events for Stone Financial.” As we return to our meals, the conversation transitions to food—a universally engaging topic that bridges our new acquaintance.
Jeremy rises from his chair beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and a strange flutter shivers in my stomach. The proximity, the shared glances—it all feels alarmingly real.
Minutes dissolve into a charged anticipation, the feast has concluded, and the plates are being cleared away. The room, bathed in the chandeliers’ glow, hums with expectancy as Jeremy steps up to the microphone. “Good evening, everyone.”
He draws every eye toward the front. With such natural charisma, he embodies sophisticated confidence. “Tonight, we celebrate not just the success of our company but also the incredible individuals whose hard work and dedication make everything possible. Each award we present…”
At some point in his speech, I place my hand on my chin. He sure is natural as he speaks to the crowd, some two hundred or so employees are attending with their spouses—for those who have spouses and brought them along.
Cameras capture the event as he calls employees and hands them gifts of appreciation, plaques, or engraved pens for their outstanding contributions and leather-bound planners for forward-thinking and planning excellence.
Then he announces Damien as the Financial Analyst of the Year, and my chest swells as he strides toward the stage, the applause thunderous. “Damien”—Jeremy holds up an engraved plaque with the Stone Financial Enterprises logo over Damien’s name and award title—“your analytical skills and innovative strategies have significantly impacted our success. Thank you and congratulations!”
“That’s my brother!” I clap, unable to contain my excitement.
“Well deserved!” Nico chimes in at our table. “He’s set the bar high for all the analysts.”
Logan nods, and Serafina hugs me in congratulations for my brother.
Then Jeremy returns to his seat, his hand finding mine. He laces our fingers together and oh, how I love the feel of his strong warm grip. “You did great up there,” I whisper. Even if we’re fake, my pride in him is real.
“Thank you.” His gaze holds mine, a silent promise that perhaps, just maybe, the fa?ade is crumbling a little.
Nico goes to the stage and hands out awards to people under his team. Then three more company leaders do the same.
I peer over the heads to catch my brother’s eye. He’s smiling ear to ear, and I wave. He waves back. I’m so proud of him and so grateful his hard work doesn’t go unnoticed.
The CEO takes the stage, and applause erupts. Then he calls Jeremy back to the stage. As applause fills the hall, Jeremy clasps his hands in front of him and keeps his head down while the CEO credits him for his innovative leadership and awards him a sleek, glass trophy symbolizing his vision.
Upon Jeremy’s return to the table, I stand and embrace him. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Zuri.” He kisses my cheek, and a camera flashes at us. Then he sits, but his hand still rests on my back. Our shared glances and proximity stir a fluttery sensation that blurs the line between pretense and reality, both thrilling and terrifying me.
The evening unfolds into music, and people move to dance. Everyone at our table leaves to join the packed dance floor.
“Dance with me.” Jeremy’s breath whispers warmth against my ear, and those fast-becoming familiar waves sluice through my body. He pulls back his chair, stands, and extends his hand to me. With his gaze alight, I can’t say no, even if I’m not a confident dancer.
We find a section to the side with enough space for the upbeat song. It doesn’t require much skill and draws me in right away. Jeremy is a great dancer. Soon, I’ve caught up to his rhythm, and we sway in sync. We cover the space around us as he takes my hand, spinning and twirling me to the music.
He grins down at me when the song ends.
I return his smile as he swings my hand. “You have some cool moves.”
“Makes it easy when you have the right dance partner.”
A slow song starts, and the very air changes. I shiver when his hand curls around my waist and draws me into an orbit of warmth and closeness.
We begin to move, and I glide into the steps. With our fingers interlaced in one hand, I rest my other hand on his chest since I can’t reach his shoulder comfortably without stepping on tiptoes. The soft chandelier light bathes us, and the music wraps around us.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he murmurs, his breath a whisper against my ear stirring a flutter in my chest.
“Thank you for inviting me.” A whisper is all I can manage. Immersed in his proximity, I have to remind myself to breathe. His spicy scent and warmth envelop me, accelerating my heartbeat. “Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer with slow songs.”
“Makes two of us.” His smile melts my heart, yet his admission bolsters my confidence. His lips brush my ear. It’s just his way of making sure I can hear him through the music, but he has no idea it melts me inside. “You said you took dance lessons. Salsa, was it?”
“You remembered?” My smile breaks through my nervousness. “I never returned to salsa and didn’t venture into any other dances after that.”
As the song flows, we glide together, our bodies finding a rhythm as natural as breathing. The world recedes, leaving only us in a bubble of intimacy. His warmth and the steady pressure of his hand on my back crafts an alarmingly real connection. The lines of our fa?ade are blurring for me—maybe even for both of us—with each slow step.
Maybe it’s all in my head, but there’s barely a breath between us. For a fleeting moment as the song nears its end, our lips hover dangerously close, and the rest of the dance floor fades further into oblivion. Like a wave in the ocean, affection swims between us. I have to assume he’s leaning forward, because our lips are almost touching, and his breath is sending goose bumps shivering down my spine.
The song ends, the bubble bursts, and Jeremy tears away from me. A flicker of something—maybe confusion—crosses his face as if he is about to make the biggest mistake of his life. He starts walking back, and I follow as if the dance was my idea.
Back at our table, we sit in silence as the couples in the room continue dancing or chatting.
Despite this very real closeness, a gap lingers between us. I reach for a goblet, attempting to quench this more-than-physical thirst, sensing the stir of emotions our dance left unquenched.
“What do you usually do after the dance?” I break the silence.
“People stick around, mingle until they decide to head home.” His index finger traces his award statue, and something unreadable adds huskiness to his voice.
How awkward this is with just the two of us at the table! The silence presses in, heavy, charged with the aftermath of our shared moment. I scan the room. Damien’s laughing at whatever the woman standing with him is telling him, his head tilted back. Perhaps that’s Jessie.
Olivia and Lexi seem engrossed in conversation with the other person at their table. The temptation to escape to familiarity, to dodge the awkwardness, grows.
“Ready for me to take you home?”
Caught off guard, I dip my head and rub at my bare arms. Am I relieved or just saddened?
“Are you usually the first to leave?” I ask, seeking anything to navigate away from the precipice of our earlier connection.
He shrugs, and the gesture speaks volumes yet reveals little. Then Nico returns, his energy infectious, and Jeremy shifts toward him, seeming eager for the distraction.
“Looks like you’ve been having a good time.” The ease with which he transitions into casual conversation with his friend leaves me to wonder about the man’s facets.
“Guys, you shouldn’t be sitting here.” Nico urges us to get back to the dance floor. “We need to keep the night alive.”
Jeremy stiffens and barely glances at me. Scratching his jaw, he redirects the conversation to their upcoming golf the next day.
I sit up straighter. This change in him—Does it mean our connection tonight wasn’t just my imagination? Did it rattle him? It’s not a good time for a relationship while I’m getting my café off the ground, but I tend to forget that whenever I’m with Jeremy.
Deciding to distance myself, I opt for an escape. “I’ll hitch a ride with Damien.” I stand and snatch my clutch bag from where I tucked it at the back of my chair.
“You’re leaving already?” Nico’s high forehead crinkles, glistening with evidence of his dancing. “You can’t leave your date behind.”
If only you knew, it’s my date leaving me behind. But I shake my head instead. “It was nice to meet you, Nico.” I have to speak for myself since my date is preoccupied with silence. “Bye, Jeremy.”
Somehow, I infuse casualness into my voice, even as disappointment dulls everything in me. “Thank you for tonight.” You’re the worst date! But I hold that in too. “I had a great time.” Also true, after all. I just hadn’t expected it to end so abruptly.
Jeremy nods. “Of course. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His polite words widen the distance between us with every syllable.
“Wait. What?” Nico scoots closer and moves his half glass of water between us. “Why don’t you give your date a ride?”
“It’s late.” Jeremy still doesn’t look at me. “It makes sense for her to ride with her roommates.”
Backing Jeremy’s rationale despite the ache settling in, I nod to Nico. “Jeremy is right.” Nico seems like the life of the party, and his friendliness soothes this rather strange time. Perhaps he’ll visit my café. “I hope to see you again soon.”
His playful salute is a small comfort as I turn to leave.
The walk to my friends’ table blurs as so many emotions blind me to everything else. The laughter and music fade, a backdrop to my internal turmoil. This fake date is concluding before it has a chance to begin.
I’m almost to my friends’ table when Damien returns, beaming. His smile vanishes the moment he looks at me. I mustn’t be as good at masking my feelings as I thought.
“What happened?”
I squish my face, working my best to act normal. “Any chance I get to meet Jessie tonight?”
“Over here.” Olivia ushers me toward the table. “I’ll point her out.”
Drawn to any distraction, I hurry over.
Damien persists. “Did Kress say anything to make you uncomfortable?”
His face is serious. While my brother used to have a temper, I figured it diffused with maturity. But now he’s looking too riled.
“I’m fine, Damien.” I speak through gritted teeth not wanting to capture attention. Had he been watching our every step like he promised?
Lexi and Olivia exchange inquisitive glances and I hold up a hand to silence them. “I just want to ride home with you all.” Edginess sharpens my tone now, but it’s probably not recognizable over the music. “Will that be okay?”
Olivia nods.
“I knew I couldn’t trust him,” Damien mutters. His gaze, sharp and assessing, shoots toward Jeremy.
And that’s when my eyes betray me and my gaze follows his. Jeremy’s alone at the table. He turns then as if he knows exactly where to look. His gaze catches mine. I doubt he looks at Damien at all because his confused gaze holds mine in a silent exchange before he looks away.
“I’ll be back.”
At Damien’s declaration, I jerk his shoulder.
“Don’t talk to Jeremy right now, please.” I have to look at Damien to make sure he understands how seriously I mean it when I say he’d better stay out of this. “I really like him.”
The admission is more for myself than for Damien. Maybe I’m the one crossing this line of fake and giving Jeremy cues he’s not prepared to take. He was clear. He needed a fake date, period.
“He didn’t force you into doing anything, right?”
I burst out laughing and slap Damien on the back. At least, with the music in the background, the nearby tables can’t hear us. The girls fall in as the silent observers they become whenever Damien and I get into a serious argument, but this one is not even an argument, I have no idea what to call it. To keep Damien at peace, I further explain why Jeremy isn’t taking me home.
“He offered to drive me, but I told him it’d be silly when you were all here and could take me home.”
My brother’s tense shoulders ease back into place. He gives me a skeptical look, then glances back at Jeremy’s table, but he’s not there anymore.
“Congratulations, by the way.” I move in to embrace Damien. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too, that you’re driving home with us.” He draws back and shakes a finger at me before he pulls out chairs for us.
An upbeat song plays, and Damien flicks his fingers, then ushers us to stand. “Let’s all go shake it up.”
“I’ll watch you.” I don’t dare reignite the feelings of my dance with Jeremy, but I can’t ruin the party for everyone either.
“I need to take some pictures.” Lexi swipes through her phone, deleting some photos to create more memory. “I should’ve brought my camera.”
I stay with Lexi while Damien and Olivia hit the dance floor.
As we drive home, the others chatter about the dance and his award, but I watch the city lights blur into streaks of color. Like batter blending, this mirrors my jumbled emotions, leaving me wondering what might have been if we”d let things develop. Instead, I’m left reeling from the fleeting moments with Jeremy and nagged by curiosity about what it would be like to be his real girlfriend.
Laying my forehead against the window, I wince at the sting of rejection and question my worth after this abrupt end.
Still, I cling to Monday’s meeting for café furniture shopping, my only remaining thread of hope. Until then, I’ll keep my distance. He probably needs some space.