Page 4 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

The space beside me remained empty.

I looked away before anyone could catch me staring. My fingers tightened around the glass, slowly turning it in my hand. The ice had melted into the drink, leaving it lukewarm and flat. I took a sip anyway, swallowing without really tasting it.

Around me, the party carried on without missing a beat. Laughter rose and fell around the room. Glasses clinked. Music threaded through the conversations, the bass humming beneath my feet.

Everyone seemed perfectly comfortable.

Everyone except me.

My attention drifted back to the man across from me.

What was his name again?

Chad?

Brad?

Something equally forgettable.

He was still talking, his mouth moving through a story I’d lost somewhere between the market crashing and a club he’d apparently joined. Every few seconds, he paused just long enough to make sure I was still listening before continuing.

I gave him a nod when his eyes landed on me. It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He smiled and carried on, picking up his story without missing a beat.

The words washed over me. I caught fragments here and there, enough to keep my expression interested. My thumb traced the rim of my glass, circling the same spot until the motion became mindless.

At some point, I realized I was holding the glass hard enough for my fingers to ache.

My eyes flicked toward the clock.

Another minute had slipped by.

I could almost feel the seconds accumulating, each one stretching the wait a little further.

It was getting ridiculous.

Cassian was late. That was all.

People ran late. People got held up. People had perfectly reasonable explanations for disappearing when they were supposed to be somewhere.

Still, the empty space beside me seemed to grow larger with every passing minute.

My gaze moved across the room.

Everywhere I looked, there was someone I’d spent weeks trying to get into the same room.

Investors I’d tracked down. Executives whose schedules had taken weeks to coordinate. People who could open doors for Cassian that he needed opened now. People with enough influence to turn a single conversation into a meeting, a meeting into a partnership, a partnership into something that could change his business.

He should have been moving through the room by now, shaking hands, collecting numbers, remembering names, turning polite conversations into opportunities before anyone had a chance to forget him.

Instead, I was here alone, carrying a conversation that should have been his while my smile stayed fixed in place.

My eyes found the entrance. Guests filtered through in twos and threes, coats disappearing into waiting hands, greetings exchanged before they disappeared into the crowd.

Still no Cassian.

I excused myself from ChBrad with a tight smile and slipped into the crowd, aiming for the first corner I could find where nobody would expect me to talk. Getting there took far longer than it should have. Every few steps, someone stopped me for another greeting, another question, another exchange that required the right smile and a polite laugh at precisely the right moment.

By the time I finally broke free, my cheeks hurt.