Page 65 of Shatter

"No reason." I turn back to the TV, giving him a cold shoulder. If there's security there, there's no reason I can't go, too. A lot of these fundraisers post security on both sides of the street so paparazzi can't take photographs. There's a reason he doesn't want me to attend.

He drops a kiss to my cheek before leaving. I'm angry. I'm frustrated. What the hell is he hiding from me? Does he not want me there? Is he embarrassed of being with me in public? Is he going to meet someone else?

That last petty, jealous thought is immediately dismissed. I know Harrison well enough to know that he wouldn't cheat on me. He doesn't do relationships, so the idea that he's sneaking out to meet with someone else is ridiculous.

I still don't like the nausea swimming in my gut that he might be ashamed of me. He'd been worried that he was too old for me, but what if I'm too young for him? He introduced me to his friends like it was no big deal, but isn't the public's opinion different? Am I too young to attend business events? I'm just a lowly bartender right now, maybe he's embarrassed of my position.

The more minutes that tick by, the more I spiral. I'm angry, and hurt, and worried, and confused. I shouldn't have just let him go. I should have demanded answers from him.

Finally, unable to stand myself, I stand, pacing the living room as I chew on my thumbnail. How can I figure out where he's gone? I could text Cass, assuming she'd be there, too, but what if she told him I was coming?

Oh! His driver.

Me: Do you have the name and number of Harry's driver

Parky: He's back to Harry now? What has he done to piss you off?

Me: Left me alone with some cryptic 'don't wait up'

Parky: Ouch. Even I'm not dumb enough to do that

Me: THE DRIVER

Parky: Joseph (202) 555-0147

Me: thanks babes! 😘

I pace again, figuring out how I'm going to play this.

Me: Good evening Joseph, this is Melody Snow. Mr. King said you'd be available to drive me to join him?

I do a tiny, excited dance as the three bubbles appear and disappear again before a text pops up.

Unknown number: I'm happy to drive you. Where am I picking you up?

Me: His building. He said I should arrive fashionably late

Unknown Number: ETA 17:25

I look at my phone. That gives me twenty minutes. I fly into my bedroom and pull out the most expensive dress I can find, throw my hair into an elegant French twist and hastily apply eyeliner, eyeshadow and lipstick. I don't have time for the layers and contouring I normally would have done, but it'll do.

I fly out of the condo, slamming my thumb again and again against the elevator buttons, muttering under my breath to 'hurry up'.

Ten years later, when the elevator finally opens again at the ground floor, I rush through the lobby, spotting a sharply dressed man in a suit standing in front of a Town car.

"Joseph?"

"Miss Snow. A pleasure to meet you."

He opens the back door for me briskly and I thank him before tucking my dress beneath myself and sliding in.

The drive there is painfully boring, but it gives me enough time to work myself into a proper frenzy. Him sneaking out is unacceptable. Him hiding things from me even more so. That's not how partners treat each other. He needs to communicate with me. If he's embarrassed of me, he needs to man up and own it. No. He should have manned up and told me a month ago, before I fell in love with him. My heart pinches with the fear that he might not feel the same way about me. That maybe this is the end. That maybe I am too young; too silly of a woman to have a man like that.

But I roll my shoulders back, gripping onto my indignation with both hands, ready to make a scene.

Joseph pulls up to a beautiful hotel and puts the car in park before walking around and opening my door. I pull on the role of confident debutant arriving at a ball. I harness my Scarlet O'Hara energy, smooth my dress, and decide Harrison King is about to have a very bad evening.

My steps falter when a kindly looking man in a doorman's uniform steps in front of the door.