Chapter 19 #2
Sawyer grins. “And you’re coming to have a drink.”
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“Exactly.” He gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “That’s why we’re leaving.”
For the first time all evening, I glance toward the now-empty elevator.
Aubrey is gone. The apartment suddenly feels strangely hollow.
Maybe Sawyer’s right. Maybe getting out of the penthouse for a couple of hours is exactly what I need.
“So, I told him to shut the fuck up,” Sawyer says as he tells a story.
I take a sip of the amber liquid. Something catches my eye to the right of the room. I do a quick glance and nearly spit out my drink.
Aubrey is sitting at a high-top table, holding a glass of white wine, while Sydney appears to be in the middle of some animated story, talking with both hands while Aubrey laughs so hard that she doubles over.
One hand presses against her chest as though she needs to catch her breath.
The sound doesn’t reach me over the music.
I can’t hear her laughter … but I don’t need to. I’ve heard it enough over the past five weeks to know exactly what it sounds like.
The kind of laugh that always makes the corners of her eyes crinkle before she instinctively tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You planning on drinking that?” Sawyer’s voice pulls me back for all of three seconds.
I look down at my untouched glass. “Hmm?”
He then follows my gaze across the room before slowly smiling to himself. “I was wondering how long it’d take.”
“What?”
“For you to stop pretending you weren’t watching her.”
I don’t know how long he was aware of me watching her, but it doesn’t even matter.
“I’m not,” I lie.
“I just lost you for a solid five minutes while you pined over her.”
I sigh. “Drop it.”
He leans back against the booth, completely ignoring me. “I’ve known you since we were eighteen.”
“I know.”
“I’ve watched you negotiate billion-dollar acquisitions without blinking.”
“I know.”
“I’ve watched you fire executives who deserved it without losing a minute of sleep.”
“I know, Sawyer,” I warn half seriously.
“So, explain to me why one twenty-two-year-old nanny has you looking like someone just shot your dog.”
I laugh, though it doesn’t sound amused. “I’d love to.”
He studies me for another second before quietly replying, “You’re in trouble.”
I don’t answer because for the first time, I think he might be right.
Across the room, two men approach. I watch one of them hesitate for the briefest moment before saying something that makes Aubrey look up.
She smiles politely.
The taller of the two leans casually against the edge of the booth, clearly comfortable striking up conversations with women he’s never met.
He isn’t doing anything wrong. He isn’t touching her or crowding her.
He simply looks interested. That should be enough for me to look away. Instead, every muscle in my body locks.
The first man says something, and Aubrey laughs.
Not because she is flirting. I know the difference. She laughs because she is kind. Because she’s never learned how to make another person feel small just because they were interested in her.
Sydney says something that makes both men laugh now. It all looks harmless.
So, why does it feel like I can’t draw a full breath?
I pick up my whiskey and finish it in one swallow. The burn barely registers.
All I can picture is one of those men walking Aubrey home. Standing where I stood outside our elevator. Making her laugh the way she laughed with me before I was stupid enough to convince myself distance was somehow noble.
The realization settles over me with suffocating clarity.
I’m no longer afraid of my feelings. I’m afraid someone else will have the courage to act on theirs first.
Aubrey reaches for her purse.
She leans toward Sydney, saying something I can’t hear before sliding out of the booth and disappearing down the hallway toward the restrooms.
Without thinking, I stand.
Sawyer looks up immediately. “Oh, don’t.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“No.” His voice is serious. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re about to make a decision before you’ve actually thought about it.”
“I just …”
The words die because I honestly have no explanation for why my feet are already moving.
Sawyer doesn’t try to stop me. He simply watches me leave.
The hallway outside the restrooms is almost startlingly quiet after the noise of the bar.
The music fades somewhere behind the walls, replaced by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant clink of glasses from the main room.
Aubrey is standing alone near the wall, absent-mindedly scrolling through her phone while she waits.
She looks up when she hears my footsteps.
The surprise on her face is immediate.
“Dean?” The concern in her voice only makes everything harder. “What happened?”
I stop a few feet away. Now that I’m standing in front of her, I have absolutely no idea what to say.
For several long seconds, neither of us says a word. I can hear my own heartbeat. Can feel it hammering against my ribs with enough force that it almost hurts.
Finally, I let out a slow breath. “I can’t keep pretending.”
Her brows draw together. “Pretending what?”
“That watching you with someone else doesn’t make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”
The words echo in the quiet hallway. They are completely raw and honest.
She stares at me, her lips parting slightly as she searches my face.
“I spent two weeks convincing myself that if I stayed away from you,” I say quietly, “eventually, I’d wake up, and things would feel normal again.”
“And?”
I laugh bitterly. “And now I can’t decide whether staying away from you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made … or whether getting this close to you is.”
I take one slow step forward.
“So, which is it?” her soft voice asks.
I look down at her. The woman who has somehow become the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before falling asleep.
The woman I spent weeks trying to forget while accidentally proving to myself that forgetting her isn’t an option anymore.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “And that’s what scares me.”
Neither of us moves. The space between us has grown impossibly small without either of us consciously closing it.
I become aware of everything at once—the faint floral scent of her perfume; the warmth radiating from her skin; the tiny, uneven rhythm of her breathing; the way her eyes keep flickering from mine to my mouth before guiltily returning again.
It feels as though the entire world has narrowed to the few inches separating us.
Nothing beyond this hallway exists anymore.
Only the impossible pull drawing me closer despite every reason I have to resist it.
My hand lifts almost involuntarily, my fingertips brushing against a loose strand of hair near her temple before settling lightly against the curve of her cheek.
She closes her eyes for the briefest moment, leaning into my touch.
When she looks back at me, her eyes are soft, questioning.
I lowered my forehead until it is only a breath away from hers.
One more inch … that is all it will take.
But the restroom door bursts open.
Laughter spills into the hallway as two women step out mid-conversation before stopping abruptly when they see us.
“Oh!” One of them blinks rapidly between us. “Sorry!”
The spell shatters instantly.
Aubrey steps back so quickly that she nearly loses her balance.
My hand drops to my side.
She searches my face one last time before turning and disappearing toward the bar, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, wondering how two interrupted moments could somehow make wanting her feel infinitely worse than if I’d kissed her at all.