Chapter 27 Addison
TWENTY-SEVEN
ADDISON
If it weren’t mandatory for everyone at the firm to attend this New Year’s Eve party, I’d be curled up on my couch with a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, wearing a baggy T-shirt and yoga pants and watching the ball drop on television.
Instead, I look like I’m attending the Oscars in a Prada dress, with hair and makeup that took almost two hours to do, and I’m in a sea of Chicago’s elite excited to ring in the New Year in style.
Bill and the other partners spared no expense for their annual client appreciation party at the Drake Hotel.
Appetizers and desserts are offered by the waitstaff on silver platters, champagne fountains flow with Dom Perignon, complemented by fountains of silky chocolate.
A live band is set up on one end of the ballroom, playing sophisticated music for the guests dancing in a sophisticated manner.
Smiles are everywhere and laughter floats in the air.
It’s an hour until midnight. I’ve been here since eight, mingling, chatting, schmoozing, the whole bit.
I’m not a professional actress by any means, but I’ve done a damn fine job in my role of happy employee-happy human tonight.
No one suspects that I see the world’s vibrant colors as muted tones and dull hues.
That it’s hard to find joy in the things I used to, now that they’re tainted with memories of a happier time.
That I’ve been relentlessly scanning the room, at once hoping and dreading I’ll find a particular man with hair black as night, staring back at me with icy-blue eyes.
I’m relieved that Roman is a no-show. Bill mentioned in passing that he made sure his son knew he was still invited, despite no longer being a part of the firm.
Ever since hearing that, I’ve been scared shitless of seeing him.
Not that I’d give him the benefit of knowing.
I planned on acting aloof and civil, like I would in a public setting with any other attorney I’m acquainted with.
My life is not irrevocably changed by my past with Roman Reeves.
My broken heart—no, not broken, Addie, merely damaged—is only a temporary setback.
At any rate, whatever his reason is for not attending, I’m grateful for the reprieve.
One more hour and then I can get the hell out of here and into my pj’s.
“Addie darlin’, you’re an absolute vision in that dress.”
Leave it to Austin to draw out the first genuine smile from me since I arrived.
Stepping into his open arms, I gladly accept his hug and give him a kiss on his freshly shaven cheek.
“Why thank you, Austin. And you’re looking awfully dapper in your tux.
Let me know if you need me to beat the women away with a stick. ”
He straightens his jacket with a tug at the hem and smiles wide, his twin dimples doling out that Southern charm even when he’s not drawling compliments. “That won’t be necessary. But you could help them form an orderly line so I can wish them all a Happy New Year properly.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Something tells me Bill won’t appreciate you sucking face with all of his female guests.”
“If you think Bill has ever been aware of what really goes on at his parties, you have much to learn.”
Laughing, I say, “Maybe so, but I think I’d just as soon stay in the dark on this one.”
“Suit yourself,” he says with a wink. “Where’s your date?”
My smile falters, but I recover quickly. The practiced happiness has become automatic over the last few months, almost second nature. “He’s refreshing our drinks.”
“Perfect.” Austin steps beside me and looks out over the crowd in the massive ballroom. Since there is a bar set up in every corner of the room, he’d be hard-pressed to find Sam with only a sweeping glance, but Austin seems determined to try. “I’ll keep you company until he returns, then.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Are you seriously pretending to stay for my benefit and not because my date happens to be one of your favorite NHL players?”
“Now, Addie-girl, you know how much I adore you,” he says, placating me with an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side for a half hug and friendly kiss on top of my head. “Being in your company is the highlight of my evening. Getting to meet Sam Larsen is merely the icing on the cake.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Normally, this would be the part where I tell you to get your hands off of my date.” Sam sidles up to us, a mixed drink in one hand and a chocolate martini in the other, and gives Austin a cutting look.
“But considering she’s my cousin, I’ll forego that particular threat and skip to the prelude of another by asking if you’re the asshole who broke her heart. ”
“Sam,” I hiss, accepting the drink he holds out to me. I didn’t exactly tell Sam what happened between me and Roman, but when I canceled the birthday surprise with him via text and didn’t take his calls for a couple of weeks, he reached his own conclusions.
Austin gives my waist a squeeze to let me know it’s okay and pulls away. “I’m actually one of the asshole’s best friends, Austin Massey.” Offering his hand, he adds, “But I’d like to think I’m Addie’s friend as well.”
Sam takes a drink of his Jack and Coke, leaving Austin to hang while he scrutinizes him. Finally, Sam nods and clasps Austin’s hand in a firm shake. “Since she didn’t nut-tap you for putting your arm around her, I’m inclined to believe you. I’m Sam—”
“Larsen, yeah, I know.” Austin’s pumping Sam’s hand so enthusiastically, I’m afraid he might cause damage. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Oh, thanks, man. I suppose you can’t be all bad, then.
” Sam breaks into a smile, transforming him from badass to baby-face in a matter of seconds.
He’s one of the better-looking hockey players.
Built like a brick shithouse, he has close-cropped brown hair, a trim beard, and amazingly enough, all of his own teeth still firmly intact.
Currently he’s sporting a black eye that’s faded to a lovely shade of purple, and a split lip from a fight he got into in his last game.
I asked him to come as my date so I would have someone to talk to between chatting with guests, and because it almost guarantees that they’ll pick up a conversation with him about his career or the NHL, which gets me off the hook from talking so much.
He took some convincing—Sam’s way more comfortable in his hockey uniform on the ice—but he finally agreed when I told him about all of the divorcées that would be in attendance.
Despite his original claims otherwise, he cleans up nicely and does well enough on terra firma with the rest of us non-skating heathens.
Sipping my martini, I mentally check out as the boys dive into their bro convo about all things hockey.
It’s not that I can’t join in, it’s just that I don’t have the energy.
I’d rather switch to empty-headed Barbie mode for the last fifty minutes of my required sentence.
I wish Chance and Jane hadn’t decided to spend their first New Year’s Eve alone at some romantic mountain resort.
I could use the female support and a rousing game of What’s Their Story to distract me from my general malaise.
Then again, the game is just another thing that makes me think of Roman, so that’s out. Goddamn him. He’s sucked all the fun out of life. If he were here now, I’d kick him in the junk.
No sooner does the thought cross my mind than I feel a heavy gaze settle on me. My head turns, and I find him effortlessly, as though he’s the only one in the room. Which I suppose isn’t all that surprising because, as far as my heart’s concerned, he is the only one in the room.
Roman stares back at me from where he stands just inside the doors.
The venue is huge, and I’m on the far side.
With the level of noise from the band and chattering guests, we’re not even within shouting distance, yet it feels too close.
I’ve been fortunate that our paths haven’t crossed at the courthouse since that night at his apartment, and I’ve made sure we never hung out with our friends at the same time.
But I thought that when the time came, I’d be able to handle seeing him.
That I’d be strong enough to hold my head high and greet him with a smile and well wishes.
I was wrong. So very fucking wrong.
It’s bad enough when my memory forces me to see him every time I close my eyes. But in person like this…it’s more than I can bear.
His steel-blue gaze pierces my protective shell like an arrow through tissue paper. Once again, I’m laid bare. Stripped naked in the worst way. My breath catches, held prisoner in my chest, and hot tears sting as they brim and threaten to fall, outing me as weak and damaged.
The well of sadness I’ve managed to keep contained has turned into a tsunami wave, and it’s seconds away from crashing over the shores of my public composure. There’s no stopping it.
Screw mandatory. I have to get out of here.