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“Do you want to dance?”
Crew’s words echo in my mind.He needs something to care about, besides the damn company.
“What about the call?”
“It can wait until Monday.”
“Okay.” I nod, the movement jerky. People are staring at us—staring at him—and I’m uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
Oliver leads me out onto the dance floor. The music is slow and sweeping, a waltz that evokes floating on water or spinning in circles.
“You look stunning, Hannah.” His words rise inside me like a growing tide, spreading heat across my skin.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
Oliver’s smile grows as our gazes connect; his attention totally focused on me. His attention is overwhelming, but I can’t manage to look away. I wonder how I’ll live without it. If the simple act of someone looking at me will ever feel this way again.
“The woman you went out with was Quinn Branson?” I can’t keep the question contained. It spills out of me like an overflowing fountain.
Twin wrinkles appear between Oliver’s eyes as my question registers. “Yes.”
“And you were supposed to marry her?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Does it matter?”
Oliver’s hand tightens around mine. A muscle leaps in his jaw. “My father suggested it.”
“Why aren’t you?”
“I’m already married.”
His voice is low, and I match it. “We’re getting divorced.”
“Won’t change anything.”
“It could.” I’m not sure why I’m pushing it. After Oliver and I part ways, what he does with his life is none of my business. It’s none of my business now, honestly.
“Did Crew say something to you?”
“No. Some women were talking about it in the bathroom. And Savannah mentioned the photos of you two.”
“Is that why you’ve been acting this way since you got back?”
“No,” I lie.
“Hannah, I—”
Whatever else Oliver was going to say is lost in a sudden flurry of activity, as a group of guys appear and surround us.
“Here you are!” The same man who approached Oliver when we first arrived slings an arm around his neck. “Come on, Garrett wants to do a group photo.” He glances at me. “We’ll have him right back.”
I nod as they pull Oliver away, caught somewhere between relief and frustration about the interruption, before I head toward the bar, so I’m not left standing alone out here.
* * *
Oliver and I are both silent as the limo pulls away from the curb, headed uptown.
