Wasn’t he aware how difficult it was for me to feel alone and abandoned in a crowd—especially one consisting of loud, wealthy investor types? Ford, of all people, should know precisely how anxious social events made me. Seeing as how he was the one who swooped in to rescue me when I was living the life of a permanent, solo wallflower in high school.
Fifteen minutes in, I’d had enough. Pity party over. If Ford wanted me to stand around by myself for a few hours, I would handle it. I’d been forced to endure worse. Time for a drink.
I went to the bar to get a glass of red wine, which I brought back to my corner and nursed slowly, trying to keep a pleasant, neutral expression on my face. At least I was by the door where the waiters came out with their trays of crab cakes, so I was always right there to get a fresh one.
I’d probably eaten half a dozen and was just about to reach the bottom of my wineglass when I was joined by a tall, sandy-haired man with a friendly smile. He looked around my age, and he was handsome. Not knee-weakeningly so, like Ford—more of a bland, All-American kind of handsome, in the way of rich young men who wore Ralph Lauren and owned boats or horses.
“Hi,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Hello,” I said politely, quickly wiping my crab-cakey fingers on a napkin before I accepted his handshake.
“I’m Andrew.”
“Emzee,” I said.
“I couldn’t help noticing you all alone over here,” he said with that nice smile of his.
I flushed, embarrassed that a perfect stranger had noticed that I was basically hiding in a corner during a party.
“I’m just taking a breather from the crowd,” I said.
Which wasn’t a complete lie. Iwastaking a break…from the pressure to perform in a situation where I felt out of place and uncomfortable.
“Understandable,” he said. “It can get a little overwhelming.” He glanced over my shoulder. “And you definitely found the best place to hide. First dibs on the crab cakes.”
“They are pretty fantastic,” I admitted, feeling caught out.
Andrew gave me a wink. “It’s a good thing they don’t have shrimp cocktail tonight. Those are my weakness. I can put away ten, maybe twelve of them at a party like this. It’s pretty horrifying—for me and anyone else that’s watching.”
I laughed. It was hard not to like the guy. He was nice and funny, and he was putting me at ease. After he fetched us a fresh round of drinks, I thought to myself that maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“This is a really nice venue,” he observed, looking around the gallery.
“It is,” I agreed.
That was the one good thing about this event. Malone Real Estate Holdings had booked out a very well-known, highly respected art gallery. I’d heard good things about their latest exhibit, so I’d been looking forward to the location, if not the actual event. But once Ford and I had arrived, it became obvious that no one was really interested in what was hanging on the walls. And the room was a bit too crowded to get any good views of the photos on display.
But what I’d seen, I’d liked.
“I really like the curation,” he said. “Not that I can see much of the art in this crowd.”
It was as if he’d read my mind. I looked at him, startled.
“What?” he asked, mistaking my expression for something else. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re the photographer and this is exactly the kind of event where you feel your work is best displayed.”
I laughed again. “No, no, no,” I reassured him. “I’m not the photographer. I like the work as well. I was actually just thinking the same thing.”
“Ah. So which one is your favorite?” he asked. “Of what you can see.”
I glanced around, trying to reacquaint myself with the work I’d attempted to check out when I first arrived. I didn’t know the photographer, but I was impressed with what I saw. Lots of beautiful architecture, mostly in and around Chicago it seemed, but shot from unique angles and perspectives that made it look more like abstract art than photographs.
“I think I like that one the best,” I said, pointing to one across the room.
It was the skyline of our city, familiar and iconic, but captured from above in a grid pattern of shadows and shapes. I found it evocative and interesting.
“The artist has a gift for playing with light and dark to emphasize form,” I said. “And I can’t help noticing the care they seem to take with the negative spaces.”
Now it was Andrew who was giving me a surprised look.
