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His striking jawline is masculine, though from where I’m standing, it appears freshly shaven against the warm lighting inside the grand room. Inside my chest, my stilled breath makes no sense, not when my husband is beside me.
So what if the man looks hot. There’s nothing wrong with admiring a good-looking human being.
And in a split second, the man’s eyes meet with mine, drawing every last breath from within my lungs. Goosebumps spread across my skin from the baby blue eyes which are fixated on me, the same eyes I’ve tried my damned hardest to forget for the last two years.
This can’t be happening.
My gaze falls to the ground, a hard swallow accompanying the sudden move. This is my imagination playing tricks on me. I blame it on all the romantic talk or maybe the music, certain when I raise my eyes, the man will be a stranger.
The exhaustion, it has to be why I’m delirious with thoughts.
At a slow and agonizing pace, I suck my stomach in, enlarge my chest to take the deepest of breaths, then lift my gaze across the room.
They’re gone.
My shoulders fall slightly as my lips press tightly into a grimace. Beside me, Benedict is still talking but this time about history and war. I desperately need champagne and scan the room to see all servers busy with guests. Thankfully, one walks past as I manage to barely swipe a glass. I bring the glass to my lips, relishing in the bubbles which make my mouth tingle before enjoying the drink and allowing it to calm my nerves.
As I turn around, my heart stops like a car slamming its brakes at a red light, the momentary screech becomes a vacant sound so loud the noise inside the room drowns out. The familiar blue eyes are staring right at me, no longer a figment of my imagination.
“Well, hello there, old friend,” he greets with a fixed smile.
“Andy?” I barely get out.
“In the flesh.”
Benedict stops talking, suddenly appearing beside me, glancing at me, then Andy. It would’ve been the right moment to hug Andy, but the moment passes, and the only thing left is to introduce him.
Benedict extends his hand to Andy. “Benedict Banks, Jessa’s husband. And you are?”
“Andrew Evans-Baker.”
Since when does he use the name Andrew?
“And how do the two of you know each other?”
“Andy is family, my cousin,” I blurt out. “He’s Uncle Lex’s nephew.”
“Family? I don’t recall seeing you at our wedding?”
I lower my eyes, trying to rack my brain to think of an excuse, but it’s completely blank. Between my heart racing a mile a minute to the nerves crippling any rational thoughts I have, I can’t seem to even string a proper sentence together.
Andy is calm and collected, appearing completely unaffected by meeting my husband. The man who ultimately drove a wedge between us.
“Jessa and I haven’t seen each other for years, my fault really,” Andy says without emotion. “I travel quite a bit for work, so rarely get to see any of the family.”
Benedict nods, appearing satisfied with the response. Someone walking past catches his attention, and quickly, he excuses himself.
As I stand across from Andy, my eyes scan his face, but everything is just how I remember—the two small creases near his left eye and the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles. The seven tiny freckles scattered across his nose, each one I’d named after the seven dwarfs—grumpy being my favorite—since that was Andy’s mood after I’d torment him while touching his face.
Perhaps, he has aged, but it only makes him look more mature and devastatingly handsome.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, still trying to process this.
“No, how are you? How have you been?” he questions with the tilt of his head. “I’m in London for work. As for this ball, I was instructed to attend to meet some important contacts.”
“You’re in London for work? For how long?”
“For as long as I need to be,” he discloses, staring deeply into my eyes. “It’s a beautiful city.”
