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He doesn’t answer her, other than to nod. There’s a concerned look in his eyes and he tells me, I’ll be right behind you.
“I’m not letting her out of my sight,” he warns Kelly who only laughs, a sweet friendly sound before whispering to me that whatever he said he can shove up his ass and that she loves me.
“Should we hide in the bathroom?” she asks me and I shake my head. Half of me wants to leave, while the other half wants to feel it, and let it all go.
“Smile on,” she says and like a ghost taking over, I grin entering the room and hollowing out to let the former me show. That’s what this night is about. This is for me, not him.
As the clock ticks by, and hour passes easily, I laugh when everyone else does. I smile for the cameras. I accept hug after hug and give comments to the gossip columnists when they ask for one that would make Kam proud. I’ve been through hell and back. If Zander thinks his commitment problems are enough to break me, he’s the one who’s got a new thing coming.
I’m fine. I’m better than fucking fine.
He’s barely approached me, watching from a few feet away as if he’s merely security. He must know he fucked up. He called in backup. I spotted Silas across the room and nearly rolled my eyes. It’s yet another betrayal. It fucking hurts. It feels like a breakup. Like I did the one thing I knew I would do. I pushed him and he refused to move with me.
I have issues, yes. But so does he. And it’s not my responsibility to take his problems on. That’s what I tell myself anyway, as I’m looking at my ex from another life.
That … and to do what Kelly suggested, to show Zander why he needs to commit.
John, a handsome lover from years ago, circles the edge of the crowd, his face disappearing and reappearing as people talk into my ear and ask me the same stream of questions over and over. How are you? Are you settled at the lodge? We missed you.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much to be here hearing how much they missed me and being reminded over and over that I was gone. Being reminded of what happened.
Suddenly, the music feels like an assault, and the crush of their bodies close to mine, and the heat of all that skin so close by. The autumn night can’t compete with the number of people here and it’s too much. It was easy to be irritated at Zander before, when he kept pointing out that we could leave any time, when he insisted on going over our signals again and again, and now it turns out he’s right.
I hate that. It feels like a rock at the pit of my gut to be wrong about this. But if I’m being honest, it’s not the party that feels like such a raw, open wound. It’s him. I had him in my bed, where I thought he belonged, and he didn’t choose me.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes but I blink them away before they can fall.
“You need another drink.” Trish’s face swings in close, her eyes bright.
“Hell yes I do.” Zander’s order be damned.
She throws her arms over her head and cheers, and I echo it. My voice is too weak to do it justice but it doesn’t matter. The music is loud enough to cover it up. The music is loud enough to cover everything up, except Zander.
I can feel him watching me. His eyes on my skin are a palpable burn, even when I can’t see him through the crowd. I know he can see me.
I don’t look at him at all. It’s one of the more difficult challenges of my lifetime, keeping my eyes away from his. Screw him. I don’t want to look back at him and see all that emotion in his eyes. It’s bullshit. It’s not for me.
Trish comes back with two shots and we knock them back together. Oh, it’s a bad idea. She pulls me into the circle of friends and into an argument about which shots are better, and who would rather have a full mixed drink, and who’s really a wine girl.
“Wine,” I hear myself say. “I know I just took a shot, so it doesn’t make any sense. I love wine at the end of the day.”
Trish agrees with me, and it becomes reality—I’m still a woman who loves a glass of wine at the end of the day. It’s a lie. It’s not true. There’s no wine in my house, and even if there was, drinking too much of it makes my throat hurt. I love the idea of having wine at the end of the day but I don’t love the reality. Which thing is more real?
