19 Seb
Seb
There she was.
As soon as Michelle mentioned Roxie’s name, my heart started pounding like a racehorse at the starting line. I’d been counting down the days since I last saw her on Memorial Day weekend. Ever since, the sound of her laugh had embedded itself back into my brain and refused to let go.
When Michelle had agreed to let me come as her plus one, I’d let out the longest sigh of relief I think I’d ever breathed.
Which obviously prompted her to launch into a full interrogation about why I wanted to come in the first place.
Michelle Granger wasn’t just a socialite with impeccable taste.
She was an apex predator when it came to digging up the truth.
I’d learned that back in college when she’d sniffed out a prank I’d pulled without leaving so much as a single breadcrumb trail.
By the time she was done asking all of her questions, she basically knew mine and Roxie’s entire history.
Well, almost everything. She knew that Roxie and I had a history.
That we’d been inseparable for much of our childhoods, until we weren’t.
That I hadn’t seen her in over a decade until a couple of months ago.
That we’d spent Memorial Day weekend together with Hallie and James and …
well … that there had been something between us again.
Michelle had a way of cutting straight through you like she could peel back the layers and find the weakest spot without even breaking a sweat.
So when she’d said, “Sebastian, if you pulled that disappearing act on me the next morning, I’d have blocked you before breakfast,” I couldn’t exactly argue.
I’d completely stepped in it. Unfortunately, it was going to take drastic measures to get Roxie to listen to my explanation and learn that this was all just a massive misunderstanding.
Now, standing here in the middle of the gallery’s warm glow, I could feel the gap between us like a live wire.
Roxie, in a leather jacket, looked far more edgy than any of the customers in the room, who were dressed in labels and brands I recognized as part of Whittaker Holdings.
She was making her way across the room, an earpiece wrapped around one ear, as she greeted guests with a polite smile.
Nobody knew what they were being robbed of—being on the receiving end of one of Roxanne King’s genuine smiles.
Michelle led me forward, confidently navigating the bustling crowd with an air of familiarity, as if the space belonged to her, which was a fair assumption considering her numerous art acquisitions.
She moved through the crowd, and the whispers of admiration for her recent foundation gala or her vacation with Elliot in Capri, were just audible as people stepped aside.
When Roxie finally caught sight of us, her expression shifted. No longer was she even trying to pretend to smile. Her lips flattened, her gaze narrowing just enough to let me know this was not going to be the reunion I’d been playing over in my head for the last week.
She didn’t slow her pace, didn’t fumble or lose that poised, purposeful walk, but her eyes never met mine. Instead, she focused on Michelle, as though I were nothing more than a shadow tagging along behind her.
“Roxie! There you are darling,” Michelle greeted, taking Roxie’s hands in hers. “I want to introduce you to a dear friend of mine. He’s been dying to see this show ever since I told him about it. He’s looking for some new pieces for his place.”
That should have been her cue to finally look at me, but still she kept her gaze planted on Michelle’s.
“Of course. Always a pleasure to see you,” Roxie said to Michelle.
Trying once more to direct Roxie’s attention my way, Michelle swept her hand in my direction. And I definitely owed her. She was just as good a wingman as either James or Elliot had been throughout college. “Roxie, this is Sebastian Whittaker.”
After what felt like ages, she finally dragged her eyes over to meet mine. “Sebastian,” she said through what looked like clenched teeth. “What an … unexpected surprise.”
Her voice was cool, clipped—like she had carefully delivered each word to avoid giving me even an ounce of excitement.
“Roxie,” I said, and my own voice came out lower than I meant it to, edged with something that was half relief, half regret. “You look—”
“Busy,” she cut in, the word snapping between us with a finality.
Michelle glanced from Roxie to me, clearly sensing the tension rising.
But instead of tossing me a lifesaver, anything to help me right the ship that was this conversation, she tossed me to the wolves entirely.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to … catch up.
I just spotted Eleanor Hargrove, and if I don’t get to her before she gets to me, she’ll tell my mother I snubbed her.
Again.” She gave me a discreet pat on the arm that told me not to blow this before slipping into the crowd.
So much for her being a stellar wingwoman.
Suddenly, it was only the two of us.
Though it was clear Roxie had other plans than to hang around and share the same air with me. She turned on her heel, making good on her promise of being busy. Before she could get far, my trembling hand reached out to stop her.
She froze, but not because she wanted to. Rather because she was too polite to cause a scene in the middle of a high-profile gallery event. Slowly, she turned her head, her eyes landing on my hand like it was something she might scrape off her shoe.
I let go immediately, palms up. “Roxie, please. Just hear me out.”
Her lips curved, but it wasn’t anything close to a smile.
“Hear you out?” she repeated, tilting her head in that way she used to when she was deciding if someone was worth her time.
I had just never been on the receiving end of it before.
“You mean listen to whatever excuse you’ve been workshopping? ”
“It’s not an excuse,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant. I could practically feel my chances of getting Roxie to see reason slipping away from me. “It’s the truth.”
“Interesting,” she murmured, adjusting the cord of her earpiece. “Because the truth usually doesn’t require you to come to my place of work to corner me.”
Her words landed like a slap, but I stayed rooted in place, refusing to let her walk away without at least trying.
“I didn’t come here to corner you,” I said, fighting to keep my voice level.
“I came because you blocked my email address, and I have no other way of contacting you. I don’t have your phone number, so I asked Michelle for it, and she said she was coming here tonight.
I wanted to talk to you in person rather than having to do it over a text message.
Things can get lost in translation like that, and—”
“Me blocking you on email should have been your first clue that I don’t want to hear from you, translation barriers or not,” she cut in, her eyes full of daggers now.
She took a step closer, not enough for anyone nearby to notice, but enough for me to catch the faint scent of her goddamn perfume that made my chest ache with familiarity.
“Roxie, I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?” she snapped. “Mean to leave without a word? Mean to disappear like you did when we were kids? You’ve got a real talent for screwing things up, Sebastian. At least this time you made sure to just get it out of the way before we got in too deep.”
I swallowed hard, my throat working like it was trying to push gravel down.
“That’s not what happened,” I said, quieter this time. “I didn’t just walk out on you. I got a call from my father about a family breakfast he forgot to mention was happening and a work emergency—”
“There’s always an excuse with you,” she repeated, her voice unwavering as she crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s the thing about you, Sebastian.
You assume every action you make is the right one when you make it.
You’re short-sighted and you don’t think things through.
And somehow, I’m on the receiving end of it again.
Because you choose yourself instead of others.
But luckily for me, trusting you isn’t a mistake I’ll be making a third time. ”
Her gaze was steady, cutting through whatever thin armor I’d built up on the drive here. She wasn’t just angry. She was hurt. And the worst part was, I’d put that look in her eyes before.
Part of me hated thinking that maybe she was right. Maybe I had no business coming back into her life because all I brought into it was disappointment.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I said, taking a step closer, careful to keep my voice low so it didn’t carry. “I’m asking for five minutes. That’s all. After that, if you still want me gone, I’ll walk out of here and never bother you again.”
For a moment, her jaw worked like she was chewing over the idea, weighing whether I was worth even that much of her time. Then she glanced past me, toward the far end of the gallery, where a tall man in an off-rack suit was watching her with the kind of intensity that made my skin crawl.
Her posture stiffened almost imperceptibly when she looked back at me.
“It’s funny how often you tell me you’re not asking for forgiveness, Sebastian.
Maybe that’s the issue. Maybe you should be asking for my forgiveness.
Because you don’t get to set terms with me,” she said, softer now, though the edge was still there. “Not anymore.”
Then she turned and weaved through the crowd of people. And this time, I didn’t bother reaching out to her. The warm glow of the gallery lights framed her silhouette, and the soft murmur of the guests swirled around me like a tide I couldn’t swim against to reach her.
My chest tightened, a mix of frustration and something far more painful knotting inside me.
Roxie had every right to shut me out. Every reason to protect herself from the mess I’d made of our past, and maybe even our future.
But standing here, knowing I’d let her down again, was like swallowing shards of glass.
The man she had glanced at—the one in the cheap suit that was trying its hardest to blend in with the wealthy tailored ones around us—pulled her into an intense conversation that Roxie looked like she’d rather not be a part of.
I caught sight of an earpiece that matched Roxie’s in his ear, and I got the feeling that he was her boss.
He was leaning in close, speaking in low tones I couldn’t hear from across the gallery. Roxie’s face tightened, her jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond. As he walked away, her eyes flicked toward Michelle, who had just returned from wherever she’d disappeared to, and spotted Roxie.
Michelle’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern in a heartbeat. She stepped toward Roxie and whispered something that made Roxie’s lips press into a thin line. Roxie shook her head, refusing whatever Michelle was suggesting, and glanced back over her shoulder in my direction.
Roxie’s eyes locked on me for a split second, sharp and unreadable. Then, without a word, she turned back to Michelle and covered her mouth to whisper something.
Michelle glanced at me then, her eyes briefly flicking with sympathy, then back at Roxie. She sighed softly before she reached out to pull Roxie into a hug. Then she made her way across the room to me.
“Sebastian,” Michelle said, her voice tight. “I think it would be best if you left now. This isn’t the moment for you.”
My brows furrowed at the unexpected dismissal. The sting of rejection came sharply and suddenly. But part of me knew better than to argue, especially if Michelle was now putting her foot down. Roxie clearly didn’t want me there, and Michelle wasn’t about to let me make things worse.
“Michelle,” I said, her name coming out as more of a plea. “I thought you were going to help me.”
Michelle, one of my oldest friends, tilted her head with a look of sympathy in her eyes. “I want you to be happy, Seb,” she said, reaching out to squeeze one of my hands. “But I don’t think that will be with Roxie. I’m sorry, but you really should go.”
A painful realization dawned on me as I saw Michelle walk away and rejoin Roxie.
Roxie would never trust me. Not after this.
She was certain she’d pinned me for exactly who I am—selfish, short-sighted, and always putting myself first rather than anyone else that mattered.
However, the most upsetting thing about this was that I couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be correct.
Maybe who I was at my core would never be worthy of Roxanne King.
I hadn’t meant to hurt her. I thought I was doing the right thing, and yet still I’d managed to ruin things between us in even less time than they’d been back on track.
Maybe I wasn’t the guy for her after all. Maybe she was better off without me.
Roxie was obviously done with excusing my behavior again, and maybe I should be, too.
I stepped out of the gallery into the dark evening without saying goodbye. The difference was, this time, I was sure that was the right thing to do.