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Guilt stabs at me. I never felt bad for our relationship before. I love him, and he was unhappy in his marriage. But how do we look to others? Will we ever have friends in common?
“Beth, isn’t it?” says a female voice behind me.
I turn around to see a well-dressed woman in her forties. “Britney,” I say with a smile. “And you are?”
“I’m Carla Sheldon. One of the partners.”
I nod, grasping the stem of the flute. “Nice to meet you. This is a great party,” I say, because there’s nothing else I can say right now. Weather? Tv shows? Finding common ground is hard.
Carla doesn’t smile—but she regards me with interest, her eyebrow lifted. She’s one of those women that look smart—from her elegant pixie cut, to the way she’s dressed to how she walks, like she owns the room—even if her heels are probably higher than mine. “I hear you’re here with Hunter.”
I clear my throat. “Yes. Have you known him for long?”
“Oh, yes.” She stretched to her full height. “I was a guest at his wedding.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. This is where this conversation led, and something tells me she’d circle to it no matter what topic I brought up. I glance at the painting again, so peaceful, and muster the courage to ignore what she just said. If I do, though, she gets the upper hand—and will use it if we meet again, always thinking I’m beneath her. “I’m sure it was a beautiful event. Sue has wonderful taste.”
“She does,” Carla says, unfazed. “So does Vance, the owner of this home. I saw you looking at the paintings.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying all the things Hunter can offer you.”
“If you have something you’re dying to tell me, you can do it,” I say with sass, even if I regret it a second later.
She laughs, the humorless sound reverberating through me and pushing all my invisible buttons. “I already said what I meant to say. Enjoy this world for as long as you can dear, because you’re not part of it and you’ll understand that soon.”
I put the flute on a shelf, and dash away from her. Scanning the large living room, I search for Hunter, but he’s no longer with the group he was earlier. Hell, I even look for Dan, but he’s nowhere in sight.
The words from that bitchy woman ring in my ears, and anger wells up inside. Tears prick the back of my eyes, and I walk out of the living area and into the lavish garden. By the time I make it, I realize I’m nearly jogging, but I keep at it, until I’m away from the crowd and delving into a greenbelt area.
The air smells of tree sap and cut grass. I stop by a tree trunk, and the voices and music from the party fall into the background like a buzzing sound. I see the lights, but have no interest in going back there. I shouldn’t let that woman’s words bother me, yet they do. Because they solidify my fears. What if he doesn’t love me? He never said so.
Maybe I am just a stupid young person, the dreaded millennial. I’ve slept with a married man, and fell for him. And now I’ll pay the price—by loving him even if my days with him are numbered. What if he gets tired of me?
I wipe the tears with my index fingers and inhale deeply. Shit. I left my cellphone in my purse inside the house. I can’t order a rideshare service or anything.
I have to basically go back there and face those people, and also face the fact maybe the two of us aren’t meant to be.
15
Hunter
I march into the garden,my gaze swinging from side to side. Where the hell is Britney? I’d been goaded into a long conversation about office politics, and when I looked for her, I couldn’t find her.
I asked Dan, who also had no idea—then another guest mentioned he saw her heading to the garden. But why would she? Besides a few people talking near the pool, there wasn’t much happening here.
My collar feels tighter, so I touch it, wishing I could loosen it. Really wishing I didn’t come to yet another annual party, and brought Britney with me. Poor thing probably was bored out of her mind.
A swooshing sound catches my attention, and I follow it, stepping into the bushy area, away from the pebbled path, the pool and the other guests. I fish out the cell phone from my pocket and turn on the flashlight app.
“Britney?” I call her. “Britney.” I raise my voice.
“Here,” she says after a second or two.
My heart races, and I stalk in her direction until I see her leaning on a tree trunk. The moonlight shines down in between the bushes, enough that I can see the confused expression on her face, and from what I can tell as I get closer, eyes swollen a bit. I pull her into an embrace. Relief flows through me. “Are you okay?”
She hugs me back. “Yes.”
