Chapter 44 Cornelia
Cornelia
I’m not sure if I’ll regret this—probably, I will—but it’s too late to change my mind. Benedict and I are already at West’s club, about to head inside to meet up with The Heptad Society.
We’re not an unfriendly group, but we’re a complex one. We’ve known each other for half our lives, and everyone, including me, thought I’d end up with TJ. I don’t know how they’ll react to me being with someone else. This is uncharted territory for all of us.
The best way to explain how I’m feeling is that it’s the same nervousness someone would have when introducing someone to their parents—parents with whom you have a good relationship and who have great expectations for you.
I’d much prefer to be introducing Benedict to my actual parents.
I wouldn’t care whether they liked him or not.
They don’t have a leg to stand on, unlike my friends.
Also, Benedict meeting TJ? That’s another thing entirely to be nervous about.
We enter and make our way towards the usual booth, where I immediately spot Lucian, West, and Nate.
I hadn’t even considered how Nate might react to seeing me with Benedict.
But before I can dwell on that, I spot TJ—his arm casually draped around Weberly.
A nagging pang of jealousy hits me, and I have to remind myself I’m no longer with him.
To make matters worse, Laurie and Annabelle, the best ones at diffusing tension, aren’t here.
And since they aren’t here, no one warned me about Weberly being here.
Before we reach the table, I turn to Benedict. “Remember when you said sorry before I met your ex?”
He nods, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Well, I’m sorry—times four,” I mutter as we walk to my friend.
We get to them, and they all get up to greet us. I introduce Benedict to West, then to Nate, who seems to take it fine—or at least acts that way. We make our way to Lucian, and as I hug him, he murmurs in my ear, “He’s very handsome.”
“Thanks,” I respond.
We move on to TJ, and I’m more nervous about this part.
“Benedict, TJ. TJ, Benedict,” I introduce them.
Benedict extends his hand to TJ.
TJ looks Benedict up and down. “TJ,” he says, shaking his hand. “The love of her life,” he adds, his eyes shifting to me with a pointed look.
A brief silence falls over the group.
I want to stomp on his foot with my heel, but since it isn’t proper, I settle for glaring at him.
He quickly pulls his hand back, raising both hands in a mock surrender. “Kidding. I’m the ex.”
Benedict, sensing the tension, places one hand over my hip, pulling me closer, as if marking his territory in some subtle way.
If TJ wants to play this game, so be it.
I turn to Weberly and look her up and down. She’s wearing a black leather dress, and like every outfit I’ve seen her in, it’s so tight and short it leaves very little to the imagination. “And you are?” I ask, my tone icy.
Her face pinches. “We've met before,” she says, her annoyance evident.
From the corner of my eye, I catch West stifling a laugh, clearly amused by all this.
“I don’t remember,” I reply smoothly. “I guess you didn’t make an impression.”
“I’m Weberly Johnson.”
“Well, nice… to meet you,” I say, and then turn around and pull Benedict to the other side of the booth to sit down.
Once I’m seated, I lean in towards West and ask, “Where are Annabelle and Laurie?”
She’s the reason I’m here. I texted her two hours ago. She said she was getting ready to come, and she doesn’t take longer than two hours to get ready.
West looks at his watch. “I don’t know. They should be here by now.”
After our exchange, Weberly looked uncomfortable—good—and they left the table soon after.
It was also possible that the jabs I was shooting at her whenever I had the chance had something to do with that.
Maybe I was being unfair, taking my wrath out on her, but I don’t care.
And TJ was doing the same with Benedict.
Eventually, everyone also drifted off. West to deal with some club management stuff, I’m not sure where Nate went, and Lucian brought a guy to the booth, whom he immediately started making out with.
That left Benedict and me practically alone.
“I’m going to the bar to grab a drink,” Benedict says to me. “Do you want to come?”
“I would, but these shoes are killing me,” I tell him.
I have on a pair of Jimmy Choo silver high-heeled sandals that are a size too small.
They didn’t have my size when I bought them, and I didn’t want to wait, and if I have a motto with shoes, it’s that if I like them and they don’t fit, I’ll make them fit.
Plus, they look amazing with my outfit. I’m wearing the lilac Peyton Cowl-Neck Mini Dress from Kate Barton, accessorised with pink sapphire studs from Cartier, my ring from Jessica McCormack, a 6-carat pink sapphire ring from Van Cleef & Arpels on my right pointer finger, and a spiral ring with diamonds and pink sapphires also from them on my left middle finger.
“Do you want me to bring you something?” Benedict asks.
I smile at him. “An espresso martini, please.”
Benedict nods and heads to the bar, and a few seconds later, Nate returns and slides into the booth beside me.
It’s a pleasant surprise. Nate has been somewhat avoiding spending time alone with me.
I don’t blame him, nor do I want to pressure him.
Being with me probably feels like adding salt to the wound, and for us to be like we used to, the wound first needs to fully heal. I’m happy to wait as long as he needs.
He looks at Lucian on the other side of the booth, smiles, and then turns to me. “So, you and the TV guy?” Nate asks, fishing for information.
“Benedict Glounger,” I correct him.
“Whatever,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “Are you two an item now?”
“Can we not talk about it? It’s really…”
“Awkward,” Nate finishes my sentence for me, a smirk playing on his lips.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Is it more awkward because you turned me down, or because your ex is my cousin?” His tone teasing tone, though I can see how he uses it to disguise the pain behind his words.
I feel bad for him. I don’t want him to think there is something wrong with him or that I was looking for something—just not him. That wasn’t the case at all.
“Both,” I answer honestly. “But if you must know, Benedict and I are just hanging out as friends. That’s all.”
I was going to say hooking up, but I think that part is implied, and Nate doesn’t need to know the specifics.
“And does he know that? Because it’s easier than you think to fall in love with you,” he says seriously, as if speaking from experience, which, I suppose, he is.
His words leave me thinking. Maybe I am. But I think the problem with me isn’t falling in love—it’s staying.
“Also, it helps you’re easy on the eyes,” he adds playfully, steering the conversation back to a lighter tone. “Just make sure you two are on the same page.”
I smile at him and nod. In a weird way, I think this is his way of saying he likes Benedict. He’s trying to protect him from what he went through with me.