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“So why are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft, concerned.
Angrily wiping at my tears, I laugh a maniacal cackle. “Because I don’t want him to be nice to me. How messed up is that? I’ve become so used to him being the cold, heartless jerk that he’s become, I don’t know how to take this new attitude.”
“But this is what the old Sam was like, right?”
Saxon isn’t stupid. He knows what’s going on. “Yes, Saxon, he was. But things have changed.”
“Why, Lucy? What’s changed?” He takes a step closer. The heat from his body warms mine.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything,” I jumpily say, finally meeting his eyes.
I see confusion, sadness, anxiety, and fear swirling in his depths—it’s apprehension which I put there. Saxon feels what I feel. We both appear to be standing in a room full of people, feeling utterly alone…until we find one another.
“I can’t do this.” I turn, needing to run away before I do something so terribly wrong because I won’t regret it.
But he doesn’t let me flee. He latches onto my forearm, spinning me around. “Do what?” His chest is rising and falling so quickly, his rough breaths fan the hair from my cheeks.
“This,” I clarify, motioning with an unsteady finger between us. “I don’t know what “this” is, but I just can’t. Please let me go.”
But he doesn’t. My words only inspire him to pull me closer and closer until not a breath of air can pass between us. “I can’t let you go, Lucy. I’m afraid you’ll run away if I do.”
“Saxon…no.” My protest is weak, contradictory to my request. And my actions betray me as Saxon swallows before lowering his lips to mine.
I’m lost in the epitome of this heartfelt moment, looking into the soul of the man who somehow has opened my eyes when I wasn’t even aware they were closed. But that man is my fiancé’s brother and another wave of guilt crashes over me, dragging me under.
“No, I can’t.” I press against his chest before we take yet another step towards our undoing.
“Lucy…” he cries. But I pull out of his hold and walk back towards the house, not turning back.
The party is in full swing, while I’m ready to call it a night as I push my way past the crowd. Piper bounces over to me, shaking her head. I instantly think she saw my almost exchange with Saxon, but let out a breath of relief when she says, “Why is Sam’s doctor here?”
“Oh, shit, sorry, Piper, I forgot to tell you. I sort of invited her.”
“Why would you do that? You’re totally cock, well, cooch blocking me. Lucky for you, Saxon promised me a dance. Or two,” she adds with an over-exaggerated wink. She’s obviously very drunk.
“When?” I blurt out.
She cocks an eyebrow. “Just now. He came in looking awfully huffy, so I decided to take advantage of his testosterone.”
Great.
“I need a drink.”
“Everything okay?” she asks, concerned.
No, everything is not okay, but I nod.
Making a beeline for the kitchen, something catches my eye and I have to look twice to ensure I’m not seeing things. Sam is pressed against the wall, talking to the one and only Alicia Bell. She looks exactly how she did in high school—a gigantic slut. And she’s acting just how she did in high school—a gigantic home wrecker.
Her long, brunette hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, highlighting her heavy handed black eye shadow and pink glossy lips. She’s wearing a blue dress, which I’m unsure if it’s a man’s oversized shirt or indeed a dress. Either way, the silver glitter pumps she’s wearing all add to the stripper vibe.
I can’t believe Samuel is talking to her. A thought suddenly punches me in the guts. Does he remember her? If so, that’s not saying an awful lot for me. Deciding to find out, I pull back my shoulders and walk over with my head held high. When she sees me, her face twists in disgust, just how it did when we were kids.
“Hi, Alicia.” Her name feels like acid sliding down my throat.
“Lucy,” she replies, just as impressed as I am. “Samuel and I were just reminiscing about the good old days. Weren’t we, Sammy?”
I grit my teeth, knowing using her old pet name for him will get a rise out of me.
