Page 15 of Waiting for You

I glanced down at my own skin, at the armor I'd etched onto myself over the years, and a guarded part of me softened.

"Come sit with me," I said.

Olivia grabbed my hand and towed me toward a specific table like she'd memorized the floor plan. She pointed at our place cards, and I stared at the calligraphy, struck quiet for a second.

"You set up this seating arrangement?" she guessed, a smug grin pulling at her mouth.

"I did."

Her jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Why'd you stick us together?"

"Because you're the best company at this whole party."

Her chin tipped up, a delighted smile fighting through the fake offense. "Better company than Violet?"

"Violet's dealing with a husband. Her attention's booked." I set my water glass down on the linen. "Everyone else at this table works in corporate publishing. You know what they're going to talk about?"

"Publishing?" she guessed, unimpressed.

"All night."

Olivia let out a bright peal of laughter. "You honestly think Violet's boring?"

I weighed the question with exaggerated seriousness. "Her beauty distracts from how dull she is. Never fall for a pretty face, Olivia. It's a trap."

She dissolved into giggles.

Across the room, Simon's best man stood, signaling the shift from cocktail hour to dinner. Chairs scraped against the floorboards, and the conversations dropped to a low murmur. I settled into my chair and swept my gaze across the crowd, picking out familiar faces.

Xavier still hadn't arrived.

Our table seated four: Olivia, me, and two of Violet's eccentric publishing colleagues who were talking over each other, neither of them listening to a word. I smoothed my napkin over my lap, topped off my water glass, and watched the room settle.

Then the heavy oak doors at the far end of the hall swung open.

Everyone glanced over, expecting a parade of caterers.

Xavier walked in.

I grabbed my water glass and took a frantic gulp to remember how to swallow, then made myself set it down. I darted a glance around my table. Olivia was giggling at a joke the publishing editor had made. The man to my left was buried in the gold-foiled menu. No one else in the room had a reason to panic.

He headed straight for Violet. She bolted out of her chair, and he swallowed her in a hug. She leaned into his chest, and he bent to fit her, radiating a protective warmth, and it ached to watch them. He shook Simon's hand, murmured something low, and the guests closest to him burst out laughing.

I couldn't hear a single syllable. I'd assigned myself this isolated seat as a reward, a quiet corner where I could finally breathe after managing every crisis of the day. Now Xavier Paige stood twenty feet away, and I couldn't even hear his voice.

I wanted to hear his voice so badly it hurt.

He wore a tailored black suit that fit him like a weapon. His dark hair was pushed back, except for one stubborn curl that had broken ranks to rest against his forehead.

He looked divine.

It was the only word that surfaced, and the truth of it sat like a stone in my chest. I had nowhere to put the realization, no one to tell, and nothing to do with the suffocating fact that it was true.

I took another sip of ice water.

A waiter led him toward his table.

I stared hard at the condensation dripping down my glass.