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Emily stiffened when he placed his arm around the back of her chair. But he didn’t actually touch her, so she relaxed and tried to concentrate on the music, asking herself why on earth she’d agreed to come.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he leaned his head in close and said, “You know, you really do have an amazing talent with watercolor. That truly is why I asked you to come.”
She warmed at his praise, but only managed to murmur, “Thanks.”
“I speak truly. I’m well chuffed with your work. Quite extraordinary for your age. How old are you?”
“Twenty four.”
“Blinding!” he said with a warm smile. “I’ve found there are plenty of fit girls in New York. But talent—real talent—that’s hard to come by. Finding them together is extraordinary.” He gave her shoulder a casual squeeze and left his hand there.
The hand remained unmoving on her shoulder until the next song was finished and he pulled it down to clap for the band. “Are you enjoying the music? This group has talent and a quarter. Can I buy you another beverage?” he asked as he flagged down the waitress. “How about a glass of wine? You seem like a red wine girl to me.”
“I am,” she admitted. “Sometimes, but not tonight. I’ll stick with coffee.”
Undeterred, he ordered another beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. “You seem a b
it stressed. You need a glass of wine, not more coffee. Relax! You’ll suppress your talent if you stay uptight.” He put his arm back around her but his hand never strayed past her shoulder.
When another couple strolled past he haled them to the table. “This is Rachel and Travis, friends of mine, newlyweds actually. They’re both teachers. And this is Emily Best, my most promising student.” He had the grace to add, “I’m afraid I’m not responsible for her talent as she’s only attended a solitary class.” Emily smiled at the friendly-looking couple, but inside she was still tormented over the memory of Spencer’s hurt expression.
“So you’re an artist?” asked Rachel, her bright eyes framed with spirally curls and a genuine smile.
Emily endeavored to control her growing despondency; she couldn’t be rude to such a sweet girl. “No, I’m an accountant, really. Art is a hobby.”
“But she has amazing talent. You should see the things these hands can do.” Asher reached across the table. She watched dispassionately as he lifted her hand to press his lips against it. She realized with shock she felt no tingle whatsoever from his touch, nothing like the sensations she fought against when Spencer touched her.
“How long have you been dating?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, we’re not dating,” Emily protested.
“This is our first date,” Asher corrected, “but hopefully not the last.”
“Well, I hope you’ll be as lucky as we are,” declared Rachel, as she glanced adoringly at her handsome husband who returned the look.”
Watching the happy couple interact only plunged Emily further into dejection. The glass of wine beckoned and she gave in to the temptation to take a few sips. A few sips gradually morphed into an entire glass. The resulting numbing effect allowed her to focus on the music and conversation rather than thinking about her earlier confrontation with Spencer. Then his face flashed into her mind and she plunged back into her depressed state. In desperation, she stepped into the ladies room to call Charlie, but her sister didn’t answer the phone. She left a pitiful message, begging her to call back.
When she returned to the table, she found herself once again alone with Asher and a new glass of wine on the table. She considered calling it an evening, but Asher pleaded, “Let’s stay until the band breaks, and then we’ll take a stroll. It’s still early.”
Sinking back into her chair, she sipped her wine again. She usually didn’t have more than one glass of wine, so she knew better than to drink the entire glass. But after a few more swallows, she finally began to feel less miserable about the evening. The music was soft and soothing, and she relaxed as Asher rubbed lightly on her arm. Soon she felt herself drifting off, and she laid her head against his shoulder.
She awoke abruptly as a flash went off in her face. Opening her eyes, she blinked to focus on Becca standing in front of her with a victorious expression.
“Thanks for the picture! I don’t know whether to send this one to the NYC Word or to just send it to Spencer.”
Her heart was pounding, and she tried to stand up. But her legs felt wobbly and the room started spinning.
“Where are you going?” asked Asher as he gently pushed her back in her seat. “A few more songs until the band breaks. I’ll make sure you get home.”
Tears began to stream gently down Emily’s face as she laid her head back on his shoulder. She’d ruined everything. After Spencer saw this picture he’d never forgive her. And for what? Asher might have a cool English accent, but he wasn’t any better looking than Spencer. In fact, Spencer had nicer teeth. And he was taller. She liked really tall guys. And Spencer was sweeter. And he didn’t talk her into drinking alcohol. She liked Spencer better than Asher. She liked... Spencer. She liked Spencer, and it was too late. She’d ruined everything.
She dozed off again and woke up at Asher’s gentle urging. “Wake up, love. Here, finish your drink.” She sat up and grabbed the table to stop the room from spinning. Only a glass and a half. She shouldn’t be dizzy.
“No. I don’t feel good. I don’t want any more wine.”
“But you haven’t even finished a second glass.”
“No. I need to go home. I have to work tomorrow.”
