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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Paige hadn’t meant to look at him, to acknowledge his presence in any way. And she hadn’t. Not until about five minutes before, when she’d swiveled around in her chair at the same moment he’d swiveled around in his. And their eyes had connected, and his lips had creased into a tentative smile, and she’d turned away before hers could do the same.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“Will you excuse me?” she asked in return. “I want to check on my mother.”
And maybe that had been her intention when she fled the ballroom. But instead of checking on her mother, she found herself cutting through the lobby, imagining Noah chasing after her, his hand reaching for her shoulder as she stepped outside to gulp at the warm night air. “Paige,” she heard him say, his voice floating through the soft breeze of her fantasy to graze the back of her neck.
“Paige,” the voice said again.
She spun around.
And there he was.
“Noah,” she said, her voice almost inaudible over the pounding of her heart.
“I’ve been hoping for the chance to speak to you,” he said. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she said, not capable of words more than one syllable. “You?”
“I’m good. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve always liked that dress.”
Had she known that? Paige wondered. Was that why she’d picked it? “You look nice, too,” she managed to spit out, choosing not to think about it.
Noah patted the black leather lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “This was your choice. As I recall, I thought it was way too radical. You had to work hard to persuade me.”
“Oh, I can’t take too much of the credit,” she heard herself say. “As I recall, you’re pretty easy to persuade.” She watched him wince and glanced quickly away, biting down on her bottom lip and noting that several of the party guests had come outside and were now waiting by the valet stand for their cars.
“Okay. I guess I deserved that.”
“Guess you did,” she said, warming to the sound of her own voice. “Should you be out here? I don’t think Heather will be too happy if she sees us together.”
“Probably not,” he admitted.
“And yet, here you stand.”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what?”
“I thought maybe we could clear the air.”
She almost laughed. “Air’s pretty thick. Not sure it can be done.”
“We could try.”
“Why?”
He seemed surprised by the question. “Why?”
“What’s the point?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t one. I just know that I really hate the way we left things…”
